


Quid Pro Quo

by not_poignant



Series: Fae Tales - AUs, Oneshots and More [4]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM elements (very mild), Broken Bones, Fingering, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Marking, Massage, Minor Angst, Nightmares, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, PWP, glamour play (mindplay), meeting in bars, puppyplay (mild), reference to domestic violence, sort of, very brief homophobia (from a bartender)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwyn ap Nudd - War General to the Oak King of the Seelie fae - is in the human world to escape the pressures of the fae world; but it turns out Ash Glashtyn - Unseelie waterhorse - is looking for a place to drink and lands on Gwyn's bar. Seriously, can Gwyn not get away from the fae for five seconds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbid_lizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_lizard/gifts).



> AU - set in the Fae Tales Verse, but before all the GT/FtDWR/ISWF shenanigans. _People who don't know these characters don't need to know anything._ People who do know these characters - Gwyn's younger, and his heartsong is triumph. Ash is pretty much Ash. Heh. 
> 
> This is a three part fiction - and will have an open ending, for future development, because this is a nice way to relax from the more serious stuff. And yes, it's true, I ship everything. Once a multi-ship fanfiction writer, always a fanfiction writer. OH, also, this IS complete, so regular updates are a promise. :)
> 
> Generally a feelgood PWP (as feelgood as Gwyn's stuff can ever be), with some minor character development. 
> 
> PS: I'd be sorry about the title, but the original working title was 'The White Cow' so trust me when I say this is an improvement!

Gwyn ap Nudd, War General to the Oak King of the Seelie fae, had picked the human bar based on its name, The White Cow. Fae that could turn into white cows were considered auspicious amongst the Seelie, and while he didn’t normally pay any mind to superstition, if he was going to get drunk in the human world, it might as well be in a place that had an ephemeral connection to the fae realms he understood.

The bar itself was busy, larger than he’d expected. He didn’t blend in – he never did – even wearing brushed buckskin pants and his linen shirt, fashion had moved along. He would use his fae glamour to help himself blend in, but unfortunately he could mostly only use it to make himself more impressive in the battlefield, or to appear engaging and electric and full of light. Both of those things would draw attention to himself – _more_ attention – and he didn’t want that. He wanted to drink strong ale on his own, without anyone knowing who he was or interrupting him.

He just wanted to be alone, without...being alone.

Bars were perfect for that.

He only did it rarely, visiting bars in the human world for company-that-wasn’t-company. Sometimes he had to get away from the constant expectations that he behave like a member of one of the Seelie noble families. Fae everywhere knew him or knew of him. His appearance was distinctive. If they didn’t approach him, many watched him. He was tall and broad and stood out in a crowd, not possessing the lithe and lissom grace of many of the fae. His mother called him a brute, only suited to the skirmishes and violence of combat.

At least in the human world; even if they stared, even if they could sense something eldritch about him, no one knew who he was.

He could escape.

It was late, he was onto his fifth ale – much to the bartender’s amusement and a single raise of the eyebrow – when he sensed it. His eyebrows furrowed when he felt the crackle and warmth of another fae entering the bar.

He turned on his stool, but there was a crowd of people between himself and the entrance, and he could see nothing out of the ordinary. He hoped the fae was one of the lower classes, underfae or Icturiel; then they might not be able to sense him.

Minutes passed, his shoulders were tense, but aside from the bar livening up significantly, becoming filled with more laughter – perhaps a jester or trickster fae of some kind? – he was left alone.

Hours passed until it was well past the witching hour. The bar was popular enough that he wasn’t the last one in there, even when the small clock on the mantle underneath the bottles of whiskey and bourbon showed that it was past two in the morning.

Gwyn stiffened when he felt the fae energy approach, and was already turning, looking up, filled with resentment at the idea that even here in the human world, he couldn’t get _away_ from it all.

He could tell the fae was Unseelie and a waterhorse straight away. He had waterweed in his hair, wasn’t even bothering to hide it. But unlike most waterhorses, his hair was short and curly, a mix of red, brown and even streaks of blonde. His hazel eyes glittered with a predatory warmth, and he brought over a snifter of what smelled like high quality whiskey. He wore human clothing, he fit in, in a way that Gwyn could never hope to. He was shorter than Gwyn – many fae were – but he was muscular, fit. He had the upper arm strength of someone who wrestled. Gwyn could tell the man wasn’t skilled with a sword or an arrow, but he looked like someone who could fight.

Gwyn thought he looked familiar, and then at once realised he knew of an odd-looking Unseelie waterhorse who frequented the human world.

‘Glashtyn?’ Gwyn said, eyes narrowing. The Glashtyn and the Each Uisge were – in this incarnation – brothers who once lived in the same lake, not that far away from where Gwyn had grown up in his family’s An-Fnwy estate in Wales. He’d had almost nothing to do with them growing up. They were predators; they fed on humans, and they were Unseelie. Gwyn had, that day, killed about fifty Unseelie fae with his sword.

But he had no quarrel with the Glashtyn – as long as he could get some space.

‘You’re that General, aren’t you?’ the Glashtyn said, sliding onto the empty stool next to him and sipping at his whiskey. ‘You know, the one they all talk about? All golden and light and shit? What on earth are you doing over here? Or does the fae world get to you as well, sometimes?’

Gwyn smiled at his own drink. The Glashtyn’s glamour was incredibly strong, but it was also warm and soothing. Normally Gwyn refused to let himself be gulled by the glamour of another fae, but this was...pleasant. He indulged.

‘Also, I’m Ash,’ the fae said, holding out his hand. Gwyn stared at it, and Ash grinned at him, a toothy, charming expression that transformed his face. He radiated friendliness. ‘You’re supposed to shake it.’

Gwyn reached out and his hand was immediately grasped, shaken firmly, and then Ash let go and gestured to the bartender for another drink.

‘Get him another ale, would you?’ Ash added.

‘No, it’s-’

‘Come on,’ Ash said, even as Gwyn wondered how he could politely indicate he just wanted to be left alone. Maybe he could find another bar. It was – somewhere in the world – early evening, he could find one opening up again. ‘Keep a guy company, will you?’

‘You know,’ Gwyn said, finishing off the rest of his ale in a gulp, ‘I’ve heard of you. Ash Glashtyn. You’re either hunting food or sex in the human world. I have no qualms with you being here, and I certainly haven’t called this bar as my own – I have no territorial claim on it. I’ll just leave you to your-’

‘Hey, woah,’ Ash laughed, placing a warm hand on Gwyn’s arm like it was easy. Gwyn stared down at it. Most of the Seelie fae were frightened of him, and touches like this were hardly ever extended to him. ‘Jesus, don’t bail. You can’t just hang out for a little while and chat? Come on, man, just...stay a while.’

The hand on his arm moved up and down. It was a single movement and it could have been thoughtless, but Ash moved his hand in a way that caressed Gwyn’s arm through the linen sleeve of his shirt. He withdrew contact immediately afterwards, resting his hand on the bar, but Gwyn could feel the sensual imprint of the touch on his skin. He wasn’t exactly drunk yet, but his harder edges were starting to get smoothed out by the ale.

He took the new pint of ale and turned it in his fingers, then looked over when Ash tinked his snifter of whiskey against Gwyn’s glass.

‘Cheers,’ Ash said, on a charming half-smile. ‘Man, you are the serious type though, aren’t you? So which came first? Were you all serious and dour and then became a killing machine? Or did killing everyone make you look so grim?’

Gwyn sipped at his ale for something to do. Casual conversation. He _hated_ it.

Although this wasn’t exactly like some of the casual conversations he’d had in the past.

‘It doesn’t go down well,’ Gwyn said. ‘I was a serious child. The Seelie prefer-’

‘-Leisure and being charming and shit, yeah, which isn’t so bad really. I mean it’s good to place a premium on having a good time. That being said, I have a brother who’s pretty serious? Like, quiet and stuff, and-’

‘The Each Uisge?’ Gwyn said, brow furrowing.

‘Oh yeah, you’ve heard of him? Man, everyone has heard of him. It’s awesome. Anyway, yeah, he’s really serious and pretty quiet, and he gets by okay. So you’re here to escape then? Not fun enough for your Seelie brothers-in-arms so...you came here?’

‘Something like that,’ Gwyn muttered, amazed at how easily the Glashtyn made conversation, given that Gwyn had a reputation for shutting other people down simply by his very nature. He certainly wasn’t trying to be reciprocal tonight.

But his glamour was pleasant. It rolled over him in waves. Energy would prickle through him, warm and grasping, almost like an embrace, then recede like the tide. Then, slowly, it would sweep back again. Gwyn almost found himself leaning towards it, waiting for the next wave. He had no doubt that Ash would have been a very effective hunter. He couldn’t imagine that any human could withstand his glamour.

‘And now it’s late and you look kinda sad,’ Ash said, sighing. ‘Why, though? You’re like this big deal, and, well, I guess that on its own can be kind of a problem, yeah?’

‘I only want to do my job. I don’t want to be a big deal.’

Ash laughed, and Gwyn could tell he was being laughed at. He stiffened, even as he knew that it was likely good-natured.

‘You shouldn’t have been born into that family then, huh? What, isn’t your Da practically a god of the navy or the sea or something? And you’re _the_ War General, like, bloody hell, man. What did you expect? If you wanted-’

‘It’s late,’ Gwyn said abruptly, pushing the pint of ale back on the counter. ‘I shall leave you to your-’

‘Oh man,’ Ash said quickly, his face shifting from its bright spark of humour to something far more serious. ‘No, hey, I was out of line.’

‘No, you are correct,’ Gwyn said, pausing, even as he was half off his stool.

‘Nah, honestly, we got off on the wrong foot. Come sit down again. Please? I just wanted to talk. I come across a certain way, I know, but really...you’re free to do whatever you want. And I know it can’t be easy being born into the noble set. I mean, there’s a reason I spend so much time in the human world, you know? There’s a lot of pressure in the fae world to be certain things, and it gets tiresome. It really fucking does.’

There was something in the fervency of Ash’s voice that made Gwyn get back on the stool properly. He briefly traced the scuffed, marked wood-grain of the bar. He watched the bartender at the other end, talking quietly to a couple of patrons.

‘Is that waterweed ever a problem?’ Gwyn said, turning back to Ash.

‘Nope,’ Ash smiled, the expression softer. ‘I tell everyone it’s just like...a prop; like I’m an actor and I’m trialling it out for the night to make sure it stays in – a lot of people buy that, especially in England and the States where most of the big theatre is. Or I compel them to forget about it. A lot of humans are too polite to ask. The drunk ones normally accept anything I tell them anyway.’

Another wave of Ash’s glamour washed over him, and Gwyn found himself wanting to reach out and touch the waterweed, to see what it was like. He looked at it for a long moment, and then turned back to his glass, taking a long draught of ale.

‘You want to touch it?’ Ash said, leaning forwards.

‘No!’ Gwyn said, and then realised he must have given himself away somehow. ‘No, I only-’

‘I don’t imagine you get many opportunities to know what it’s like though,’ Ash said, ‘what with most of us with waterweed like this being Unseelie. Go on, it’s not going to bite you.’

Ash shook his wet hair – perpetually wet, the curse of the waterhorse – like a dog, curls and waterweed bouncing. Gwyn huffed out a breath of amusement.

Ash’s waterweed felt, unsurprisingly, like waterweed. It was wet but not slimy, a little rubbery, and Ash hummed as Gwyn touched it.

‘Can you feel that?’ Gwyn said as Ash straightened, a pleased light in his eyes.

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, nodding. ‘It’s weird. I don’t know what the follicles are like or anything, but I can feel that. Sometimes if it’s really sunny, I can actually feel like...the waterweed absorbing the sunlight. It’s hard to explain. It’s definitely not like the rest of my mane?’

He ruffled a hand through his hair, resettling it.

‘Yours is like a good luck charm, isn’t it? I once heard some folks talking about it, fae-side. Like, you don’t wear a helm in battle, right?’

Gwyn shook his head, smiled a little.

‘It’s superstition, and that’s all. It’s not a good luck charm. We win more than our fair share of battles because we strategise and train harder than most. But it has its own reputation now, so I leave it out. Some of my men and women actually touch it before battle. For luck. If you can believe that.’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, his voice smoothing out. ‘It’s pretty enough, all white-blond like that. Hey, I could do with some luck, can I touch it?’

‘It’s not lucky,’ Gwyn said, flushing.

‘Fair’s fair, though. I let you touch mine.’ Ash winked at him and Gwyn rolled his eyes, turning his pint glass nervously in his hand.

‘Fine,’ Gwyn said, grimacing.

‘Oh, well, I mean if it’s only reserved for _Seelie_ fae,’ Ash said, grinning at him. Gwyn opened his mouth to protest, and Ash laughed. ‘I’m kidding, Jesus. Come on, lean over. Let me see what this good luck hair is like.’

‘It’s just hair,’ Gwyn mumbled. He lowered his head a little, and waited.

Fingers came and rubbed at one of his white-blond curls, and Ash hummed under his breath.

‘It’s soft,’ Ash said. ‘Really soft. A helm would ruin your hair anyway, huh? Wow, though, it’s kind of nice to touch, hey. Maybe your soldiers are just touching it because it’s got this nice texture to it.’

Gwyn’s eyes flew open when confident fingers buried into his hair and smoothed a firm, long line over his scalp, almost like a massage. He stiffened, turned his head towards Ash, even as Ash stroked his fingers over Gwyn’s skin.

‘That’s very nice,’ Ash said, his voice deepening.

Gwyn moved his head back, stared at Ash in shock. Ash only returned his gaze, something sparking in his hazel eyes, leaning closer to Gwyn. He could still feel the drag of Ash’s fingers in his hair. It had sent gooseflesh across his skin.

‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ Gwyn said, his voice cold, ‘but I’m not-’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, drawing the word out. ‘Yeah, you kind of are. You’re lonely, and you want to be alone. It’s a bad combination, you know. Besides I’m not looking for anything with strings attached. It could be nice, you know? A night where someone could take care of you.’

Gwyn swallowed, stared at him.

‘The rumours about you say that you only fuck humans,’ Gwyn said, turning to the blunter language of his soldiers.

‘That’s why they’re called _rumours,’_ Ash purred. ‘It’s mostly true, yeah, but I make exceptions.’

Gwyn stared at him suspiciously. Ash’s glamour was rolling over him more persistently now, and he realised that he may have been getting worked over from the beginning.

‘What do you want from me? Do you want blackmail material? Because I can assure you that-’

‘Seriously?’ Ash tipped his head back and laughed. ‘What, I’m gonna tell everyone I fucked you? Why? Is that the kind of shit you have to expect? Can you trust _anyone?_ I thought Seelie fae had honour.’

‘You’re not Seelie,’ Gwyn said, flustered.

‘I also don’t give a shit about blackmailing you. I like my life, I don’t need anything else. I’ve got money, I’ve got places to live, I’ve got my family and I’ve got my lifestyle. I’m happy, man. If I was the kind of fae to kiss and tell about who I’d fucked, _that_ would probably be one of the rumours you’d heard, huh?’

Gwyn swallowed. He couldn’t deny that Ash was attractive, if overwhelming. Couldn’t even deny that there was a measure of appeal in losing himself in physical sensation for an evening. But he usually only did that while drunk, or while high on bloodlust, and he was neither. He needed to consume a _lot_ of alcohol to even be close to drunk.

Not only that, but he hadn’t let anyone fuck _him_ for a long time. He wasn’t about to let himself be taken by some waterhorse that he hardly knew, just because he was lonely.

‘It’s just a bit of fun, yeah?’ Ash said, his voice still richer than before. ‘You can call the shots. I mean you’re a war general and you’re a higher status than me, of course you’ll call the shots.’

‘You move _fast,’_ Gwyn said.

‘I move when I see an opening,’ Ash said. ‘Sometimes that’s fast, sometimes that’s not at all. I’m putting my cards on the table. And you’re cagey as fuck. You just seem like someone who could do with a night with someone who didn’t give a shit about what your job description is.’

‘And you? What do you get out of it?’

Ash’s eyes narrowed, he looked confused for a few seconds, and then he grinned broadly.

‘Really? Look at you. You’re fucking glorious. Look, I can tell you don’t do this kind of thing. Okay? You can leave whenever you want. You can leave now, if you want. But it’s late, the bar’s gonna close in an hour, and then you’re gonna have to find another bar, or go back to the fae world and face up to whatever you don’t want to deal with. Come home with me. It’s not like you’re gonna encounter me much in the fae world, right? We’re not on the same side, I’m hardly ever there, and I don’t care about patriotism and warfare and shit. You’re a pretty guy in a bar, and I’m hitting on you. It’s actually pretty simple.’

Gwyn was blushing so much he was certain it was visible even in the dim lighting. No one called him ‘pretty.’ Not only that, but whether it was Ash’s glamour or his personality, he sounded genuine when he spoke. Every word infused with a level of sincerity that inspired trust. It was dangerous. But Gwyn had never minded a little danger.

He flinched when he felt fingers in his hair again.

‘Easy,’ Ash said, scooting his stool closer. ‘You’re curious, huh? Tell you what, we’ll stay here a bit, keep chatting, and then you can make a decision when I walk home. I have an apartment nearby anyway.’

‘You live...human-side?’ Gwyn said, desperate to keep the conversation going to hide the effect Ash’s fingers were having. Ash stroked at the side of his head with long, hypnotic movements. When his fingers cupped the back of his head, Gwyn licked at his lips, nervously.

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, after a beat. Gwyn got the odd sense that he was being examined. That usually only happened when the enemy was sizing him up, it set his nerves on edge. ‘Yeah, I have a few places, and a lake on the fae-side. I like to travel. You? Where do you live?’

‘Usually I’m wherever my tour has me,’ Gwyn said, swallowing when fingers dragged down behind the curls at the back of his neck. Ash’s fingertips were blunt, his claws filed short. They pressed between the spaces of his vertebrae, rubbed as though it was almost a massage. ‘I have...a cabin.’

‘Not an estate?’ Ash laughed softly.

‘That’s my parents,’ Gwyn said, staring down at his glass of ale. What was he supposed to do? He wasn’t used to this. He didn’t flirt. Hardly anyone dared. And those of his soldiers who tried were quickly rebuffed. There was a very clear understanding there about how things were supposed to be.

‘Gwyn ap Nudd, War General, has a cabin and drinks in the human world to get away from it all. You’re kinda interesting, you know that?’

Gwyn cleared his throat as Ash leaned even closer. Gwyn could feel his breaths on the side of his face. Any moment now, Gwyn knew, he would move away from Ash. He would excuse himself and go back to reality.

Every wave of glamour was increasing in strength, a spell was being woven around him. Gwyn should have been scared, worried, it never ended well when his mother had used glamour against him like this.

But it was so _warm..._

Gwyn’s lips parted, his exhale was shaky.

‘That glamour of yours should be banned,’ Gwyn said, and Ash chuckled, massaging his fingers at the curve of Gwyn’s shoulder and neck.

‘It’s strong,’ Ash acknowledged. ‘You want me to stop?’

Gwyn had a perfect opportunity to call everything off, he knew he did. Ash even reeled back the glamour so that his senses came back to him, and he found he missed the enveloping warmth of it. Cursing himself, he shook his head. He could practically feel Ash’s smile of satisfaction, even if he couldn’t see it.

They both startled when a glass was slammed down on the bar at the opposite end of the counter. Gwyn’s head shot up. The bartender was glowering at the both of them, disgust on his face.

‘Oi!’ the bartender shouted. ‘We don’t allow any of your kind in here.’

Gwyn’s eyes flew open. He could tell they were fae? But that was-

‘Fuck you, you homophobic fucking twat!’ Ash shouted back, flipping him a rude hand gesture and tugging Gwyn off the stool. ‘Come on.’

Gwyn stared at the bartender in shock, at the disapproving expressions of the other patrons in the bar. Ash was pulling him towards the door, even as the bartender started to come around the bar. Gwyn turned, ready to defend himself if necessary, but Ash abruptly let go of Gwyn’s wrist and turned back.

‘Oi, mate, you wanna fucking go?’ Ash said, pushing his sleeves up. Gwyn stared at him. Ash was fae, he could clean up in here easily using glamour and compulsions alone. But Ash was a predatory Unseelie fae; he was no stranger to physical violence.

‘Get the fuck out of here,’ the bartender snarled. He stopped moving, stayed behind the counter.

‘With pleasure, asshole.’

Ash’s eyes met Gwyn’s briefly when he turned back, the hazel in them glowing brighter. He gestured for Gwyn to leave ahead of him, almost as though Gwyn was under his protection. The idea was laughable. Gwyn could raze the entire street if he wanted to, and it felt strange to have Ash at his back as he took the stairs down to the footpath, stars almost completely blotted out overhead due to light pollution.

‘The humans still care about that?’ Gwyn said, bewildered, looking back at the closed door of the bar as Ash started walking towards – Gwyn assumed – his apartment. He followed when he realised that Ash wasn’t waiting for him. ‘Do they?’

‘They care about all kinds of fucking things,’ Ash snarled. ‘It’s not like it’s perfect here either. I mean, far from it. I just – _most_ of the time – would prefer human problems over fae ones.’

‘But you eat them. Doesn’t it get confusing?’

Ash’s steps faltered and then he offered Gwyn a winning smile that held no trace of the rage and insult that was upon it only a minute ago.

‘Now you sound like my brother. And no, it’s not confusing.’ Ash’s eyebrows rose suddenly and he laughed. ‘I messed up your hair.’

Gwyn’s hands came up to his hair automatically. He hadn’t noticed. He started combing it out, but Ash backtracked and took one of his wrists, encouraged his arms away.

‘I like it,’ Ash said on a half-smile. ‘Leave it.’

‘How far away is your apartment?’ Gwyn said, wanting the company, but not sure if he should be spending a night with a strange fae.

‘Aw,’ Ash grinned. ‘It’s not that far away. You getting impatient?’

‘No, that’s not-’

It wasn’t possible that Ash should be able to make him feel crowded when they were alone on an empty street, when Ash was shorter and had to rise up on his feet in order to press his mouth close to Gwyn’s. And Gwyn kept telling himself to step back, to move away, but one of Ash’s hands had curled around his shoulder, and the other had splayed against his waist.

‘You smell good,’ Ash said against his lips, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing. The scrape of stubble was faint, but there. ‘It’s weird. Like...a metalworks.’

‘That doesn’t sound flattering,’ Gwyn grumbled, and Ash smiled against his mouth, rubbed his lips against Gwyn’s playfully, then rubbed the stubble of his chin on Gwyn’s cheek. Gwyn kept his mouth closed, his arms stayed awkwardly by his side. People didn’t do this. He either fucked his soldiers immediately after a battle, or he got so drunk he couldn’t remember his name anymore and he-

Ash licked at his mouth. He smelled of water and whiskey, rain and alcohol. His skin was cooler than Gwyn’s, but his palms were warm, his tongue warmer.

‘Open your mouth, Gwyn,’ Ash said, his voice taking on a faint, dark edge.

Gwyn opened his mouth, shivered, his breathing stuttered in his lungs when Ash slipped his tongue into his mouth easily, painting over Gwyn’s tongue, thrusting slowly over it. A heavy wave of glamour powered into Gwyn and he couldn’t stop the sound he made, muffled in Ash’s mouth. Ash hummed back, rubbing Gwyn’s arm with one hand, digging fingers into his waist with the other. Gwyn’s eyes closed, light sparked through his body. He leaned forwards and down, made it easier for Ash to kiss him.

Ash let go of his arm and burrowed his fingers into Gwyn’s hair again, holding him in place as he pushed up with his feet and slanted his mouth firmly against Gwyn’s, sliding his tongue beneath Gwyn’s playfully, mapping his teeth, giving the roof of his mouth a single, firm lick. One of Gwyn’s hands came up automatically, bracing himself by palming Ash’s shoulder.

Ash withdrew, smiled against his lips again, bit his lower lip and dug his teeth in just enough that there was a pinprick of pain, before lapping almost apologetically at his skin.

‘You taste good, too,’ Ash said.

‘Let me guess, more metalworks?’ Gwyn said, eyes opening slowly. He felt like he was waking up from a dream.

‘No,’ Ash chuckled. ‘Not a metalworks. A little of that, and some ale, and something else. You taste like static feels.’

‘Doesn’t sound pleasant,’ Gwyn said, making a face.

‘Well, you’re not kissing you, so you don’t know. Anyway, come on, my place is only five minutes away.’

Ash let go of him abruptly, skippingfor a few steps before resuming his jaunty walk of before. Gwyn told himself that he didn’t sway, and he certainly didn’t feel unmoored. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and followed, licking repeatedly at the taste of Ash on his mouth. He didn’t do anything like this, he kept trying to tell himself that was reason enough to not do this. Ash could betray him. If his parents found out they’d be livid.

But a part of him wanted that. A part of him was tired of always being the dutiful son. It didn’t suit him, anyway.

Gwyn’s eyes widened when Ash started singing loudly into the street, regaling the apartments around him with a song he didn’t recognise. His voice was bold, the kind that got fae roused before battle, and it stamped its way up and down the night, until someone called from a dark window:

_‘Shut up!’_

Ash laughed abruptly and stopped.

‘Whoops.’

‘How drunk are you?’ Gwyn said, and Ash turned back to him, walking backwards on tarmac and spreading his hands.

‘Not actually drunk at all? I mean I had a bit of whiskey, but, Jesus, you don’t need to be drunk to _sing,_ do you? I’m enjoying myself. You don’t really seem to do much of that, huh?’

‘I enjoy myself just fine,’ Gwyn said defensively, and then winced. He definitely sounded like someone who didn’t enjoy themselves at all.

‘Oh, yeah, _so_ convincing. Tell me another convincing truth there, War General,’ Ash said, tone teasing.

Gwyn’s lips lifted in a smile, shaking his head at Ash, who had turned and looked quickly over his shoulder before continuing to walk backwards, his eyes on Gwyn.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Ash said, ‘I’ll tell you something truthful about me, and you tell me something truthful about you. Quid pro quo.’

‘You speak Latin?’ Gwyn said, excited.

‘I watched _The Silence of the Lambs,’_ Ash said, and then made the sign of a cross over his shirt. ‘Okay, cross my heart and hope to die, or something, I once ate so many apples and drank so much beer in a single night that when I threw up the next morning, I thought I was throwing up cider.’

‘By the gods,’ Gwyn laughed, the sound surprising him. Ash laughed and shrugged.

‘Could’ve been worse,’ he said. ‘Okay, your turn.’

Gwyn cast his mind around for something to say. He didn’t have many funny stories, but it was meant to be about truth, wasn’t it? There were a lot of things he couldn’t say, but some he could.

‘When I was a child, I wanted to be a scholar,’ he said.

‘Why weren’t you?’ Ash said, and Gwyn shook his head.

‘Military family. Perhaps if my mother had more children, I could have become a scholar. But as I am their only child, expectations were that I would follow in my father’s footsteps.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ash said, pursing his lips. ‘Makes sense, I suppose. Still, I can see it. You have that kind of scholarly vibe about you. Alright, let me think. Okay, I don’t really like killing people.’

Gwyn walked faster to catch up to him.

‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah. I’m like a card carrying member of the worst Unseelie fae ever, for real. Not that I really care. I mean a man’s gotta eat, right? I just eat less than I probably should, and I have to eat a lot of fruit and stuff to make up for it.’

There was a hint of sadness in Ash’s eyes that came and went so quickly that Gwyn was sure he had imagined it. After that, every other one of Ash’s truths were genuinely light-hearted, and Gwyn was able to match with his own, finding humorous truths from the battlefield. He found himself warming to Ash’s company, enjoying his eldritch glamour as Ash paced the human streets like they were his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very quick _thank you_ for all the kudos / bookmarks / subscriptions / the reading and the comments. It makes me so, so happy.  <3

Ash’s apartment was a mess. Clothing, thin plastic containers, cushions and blankets strewn everywhere.

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, as he turned one of the lamps on. ‘Yeah, sorry about the mess. I’m a nester, what can I say? You’re probably used to servants and shit.’

‘I live in a cabin. On my own,’ Gwyn said. ‘And when I’m not in a cabin, I live with soldiers.’

‘Right,’ Ash said, going straight to his fridge and pulling out a bottle of water and a bottle of beer. He held both up to Gwyn, and Gwyn pointed at the beer. Ash took the bottle top off with his fingers, and kept the water for himself after passing the beer to Gwyn. He drank half the water at once, and then placed it on a table that was serving as some kind of extra shelf.

Ash watched Gwyn sip his beer, and tension built in the room. Gwyn didn’t know what to do. He’d never done this before, and he had the strangest feeling that Ash was trying to make him uncomfortable. He lowered the bottle and then looked around for somewhere to put it down.

Ash was there in front of him, taking it out of his hands and turning to place it on the table next to his water. He turned back to Gwyn, watched him with a calculating expression on his face.

‘I’m not sure if-’

‘I know,’ Ash said, walking towards him. ‘Let’s make it easier, okay?’

Ash took his shirt off in a fluid movement, pulling it up by the collar and dropping it to the floor. Gwyn wanted to look, but Ash pressed his chest to Gwyn’s, bunting his forehead against Gwyn’s jaw. A hand found its way under his shirt and slid up the middle of his back, knuckling across his spine, the movement firm, even pushy. But it felt good, and Gwyn’s head tipped back a little. He shifted his stance. His uncertainty drifted away a little whenever Ash touched him. There was a confidence in Ash’s hands that Gwyn was unfamiliar with.

‘You’re shy,’ Ash said. But it was a matter-of-fact statement, not a question. ‘Didn’t expect that. You feel good, though. The muscle definition on your back _alone,_ I mean...’

Ash trailed off with a happy sigh and his other hand slid beneath the hem of Gwyn’s pants. He tensed slightly, and Ash hushed him, traced fingertips over the jut of his hipbone, did nothing else but that.

‘What do you want?’ Ash said. ‘Can I fuck you?’

Gwyn swallowed, almost shook his head. He had a reputation to uphold. He was supposed to be dominating. His core energy was triumph, that _meant_ something. To be true to himself, he had to win. And to win, he couldn’t be seen to be weak.

But other voices were clamouring inside of him, Ash’s glamour a constant, persistent energy now, running up and down his back in concert with Ash’s fingers.

‘Let me open you up,’ Ash said, and Gwyn’s breath huffed out of him.

‘You’re crude,’ Gwyn said, reproving.

‘You have _no_ fucking idea,’ Ash said, grinning against Gwyn’s jaw-line. His hand slipped lower, ducking underneath Gwyn’s hip bone and finding the softer skin where his torso met his thigh, and Gwyn’s mouth was dry.

_What are you doing? You never do this! You are not drunk enough for this!_

‘You must get people propositioning you all the time,’ Ash said, and Gwyn didn’t reply. He didn’t. When he first entered the formal Seelie Court, when his mother had first started introducing him to other noble Court fae, the propositions had come; but they quickly faded away again when it became obvious that Gwyn wasn’t responding. He just couldn’t risk those sorts of attachments with people, and he wasn’t interested.

Gwyn jumped when Ash’s fingers wrapped around his cock. He hadn’t expected it, which – he realised – was stupid, given that Ash’s fingers had been beneath the hem of his pants for a few minutes now. It was invasive, close, and Ash’s fingers made minute shifts against him that caused the breath to hiss out of his lungs.

‘Huh,’ Ash said, sounding impressed. ‘You’re a good size, yeah?’

Ash’s fingers were clever, thumb smoothing over the nerves at the underside of his cock, moving lower in the cramped space and caressing his balls boldly, humming when Gwyn couldn’t contain the soft noise that escaped his throat. He was getting hard, his eyes roved Ash’s apartment, looking for something to settle on. He ended up looking at the bookshelf, though he couldn’t see it well, Ash’s fingers were too clever.

‘Touch me,’ Ash said, tugging on Gwyn’s cock in a way that made Gwyn feel like he had a hook in his belly, hot and potent, drawing all of his focus downwards.

Gwyn shifted, nervous, then settled his fingers in Ash’s hair. He sought out the waterweed deliberately, rubbing it carefully between his fingers, eliciting a chuckle from Ash that had nothing to do with ticklishness. Ash’s mane was coarse, the curls springy and stiff. Gwyn leaned his head down and pressed his nose to it without really thinking, and Ash crooned a sound of approval at him, starting a slow, cramped rhythm on his cock that made Gwyn’s knees feel weak.

He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.

‘Damn, you are too big,’ Ash said under his breath. ‘There’s not enough space for this, hang on.’

Ash’s hand slipped out of Gwyn’s pants, and both hands came down to the catch fastening them together.

Gwyn felt unmoored. Without Ash’s lips on his, and just fingers at his pants, he realised he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this to happen. He looked down at Ash’s hair and his breathing picked up, turned uneven for different reasons. He took a step backwards, stared at him with a quiet horror. What was he doing? If he went through with it, he’d be the War General who slept with the Glashtyn, who was _Unseelie._ If he didn’t, he’d be the one who ran away. A War General for the Seelie Kingdom who ran away from an Unseelie underfae, the lowest of all the classes.

Gwyn’s breathing turned shallow.

Ash’s hungry gaze shifted, his head tilted to the side. Gwyn had his fear masked with his glamour, but he was certain Ash was picking it up anyway. Unseelie were normally better at sensing fear than the Seelie, no matter how much training he put his soldiers through. It was far more innate for the more predatory side of the fae world.

‘Having second thoughts?’ Ash said, finally. ‘Okay, yeah, I get that. I move fast, huh? Come here, come here, I want to show you something.’

Ash’s fingers feathered through Gwyn’s, the movement gentle. He tugged Gwyn with slow pulses of his arm until Gwyn followed Ash hesitantly deeper into his apartment. It was dim in the hall, the only light coming from a single, small lamp in Ash’s bedroom. Ash’s scent was only faint here, and Gwyn thought back to how often Ash travelled, wondered how often he stayed.

The room had a large bed, the blankets were rumpled, and there were far more cushions and pillows than any one person needed. But Gwyn’s cabin bed was the same, and he found his nervousness giving way a little. Ash stroked his hand up Gwyn’s arm, leaving a warm palm on his shoulder. Ash had an unreadable expression on his face, hazel eyes still unusually bright even in the dim room.

‘When I said, earlier, that I could tell you don’t normally do this, that’s _really_ true, isn’t it? Not just nights of passion and touch but...any of it, right? Don’t you get- Don’t those soldiers fall over themselves for you? _You_ have a reputation too, you know.’

Ash nudged him towards the bed, and when the front of Gwyn’s knees hit the edge of it – Gwyn staring down at the mattress – Ash shifted until he was behind him. Gwyn’s breath hitched when Ash pressed up against his back meaningfully, his half-hard cock flush against him. The position stirred his core energy of triumph, made him feel as though he was losing something. He opened his mouth to say something, but strong fingers were sliding underneath his linen shirt, palming at the sensitive spaces over his hips, thumbs smoothing rhythmically over his belly.

Gwyn blinked, dazed, when he felt a forehead press against his shoulder, and then his lips twitched when he felt dampness from Ash’s hair sinking into his shirt. Ash sighed behind him, the motions of his hands on Gwyn’s front became longer, more measured. In a matter of minutes, Gwyn had accrued more gentle touch than he’d had since...

Perhaps even since _him._

The small sound escaped his throat before he could stop himself.

‘Hey,’ Ash said, rubbing up over Gwyn’s ribs, then sliding up further, pushing up his shirt and pressing his palms flat over Gwyn’s nipples. ‘Let me.’

Gwyn’s eyelids shut. Ash took charge naturally, and there was a traitorous, awful part of him that responded. That _wanted._

‘I shouldn’t be doing this,’ Gwyn said, breath shakier than he wanted it to be. Ash was embracing him. His hands snaked underneath his arms and around his chest, pressed Gwyn back against his chest. Gwyn realised that Ash was just standing there, _embracing_ him.

‘Is it because I’m Unseelie? You’re a War General? I don’t care about any of that, man. And I don’t think you care about a ton of it. We shared drinks together. But I can smell blood on you, you know. If you really hated us, you probably would’ve left, or found a way to kill me or something. So you kill us, but...you don’t hate us. And I sure as fuck don’t have a problem with you.’

Ash’s voice was deep and rough, not nearly as liquid as Gwyn expected from a waterhorse.

Gwyn shuddered when a heavy, thick wave of glamour powered into him. His breath caught in his lungs and he coughed, one hand coming up and wrapping around Ash’s forearm.

‘Man, you are fucking sensitive though,’ Ash said, sounding breathless. ‘I’m going to do that again, just-’

The second wave was stronger, and Gwyn felt as though his blood was turning to molten gold. His cock thickened in his pants, a weight that commanded his attention. He felt his body more acutely, he felt Ash behind him as a centre of warmth. He swayed in Ash’s grip, and Ash’s arms tightened around him. Gwyn realised, belatedly, that his mouth was open, exhales were falling shakily from his mouth.

Ash laughed indulgently behind him, pressed his forehead closer.

‘Ready?’ Ash said, and Gwyn’s throat worked at a dry swallow. He didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

The next wave of warm, seductive glamour built slowly. It didn’t wash through quickly, but rose inside him instead, a well filling up instead of a wave coming forwards and receding. His head tilted backwards and Ash’s arms tightened around him again, fingers scraping at his skin as Gwyn felt his world turn to heat and light. He mentally remembered to shove his destructive, fae light away, but it was an afterthought. Once he’d done that, he was free to drown, the glamour bubbling up through his lungs, pulsing underneath his skin, building but not peaking, dragging him along in a rolling, compelling current.

He made a broken sound, gripped Ash’s forearm tight to stop the feeling that he was being pulled underwater.

‘I didn’t know...you could do this,’ Gwyn said, his voice deeper, breathier than usual.

‘I can’t with everyone,’ Ash murmured. The glamour wasn’t abating, turning to itchiness beneath Gwyn’s skin, the need to _move._

He turned in Ash’s grip and bent to press his lips to Ash’s, then hesitated at the last moment, breathing against Ash’s mouth, hand gripping his side.

Ash blinked at him lazily, then pushed forwards, closing the distance between them. He opened his mouth against Gwyn’s, forcing Gwyn’s lips apart, and slid his tongue inside, thrusting slick, wet heat forwards, dominating the kiss. Gwyn had a moment to think that this wasn’t right, it wasn’t, that he-

He would never know if the hungry sound that came up between them was from Ash or himself.

Gwyn felt pressure against his legs, Ash leaning into him and encouraging him to sit back on the bed. Gwyn sat down slowly, one of his hands coming to brace himself. Ash followed, sliding his thighs on either side of Gwyn’s until they were sitting chest to chest – Gwyn still wearing his shirt – and Ash’s tongue still inside his mouth, licking hungrily. Gwyn braced Ash with a hand around his back, tracing the muscles that bunched and shifted around his shoulder.

The glamour had reeled back a little, but it was still there, made Gwyn feel as though he was in a hot spring, ears flushing red.

When Ash leaned back, Gwyn followed, mouth open, trying to chase the kiss.

Ash pecked him on the mouth, but then pressed his lips to Gwyn’s cheek instead, reaching up with both of his hands to stroke them through Gwyn’s hair. The motions were rhythmic and steady, they didn’t play, it wasn’t a light touch, it was almost like a massage. Gwyn’s eyes closed again, his head started to tilt forwards. He realised Ash was guiding him to his shoulder, and he tensed. A shock of confusion and bewilderment turned his nerves cold, and he grasped at Ash’s ribs, uncertain.

‘I thought we were going to fuck,’ Gwyn said, his voice rougher than usual.

Ash laughed softly, as though Gwyn had said something delightful.

‘Man, you are out of practice, aren’t you? I’ve heard rumours about you as well, Gwyn ap Nudd. That you’re a berserker on the battlefield. When you’re not killing people with your sword, you’re trying to do the same with your cock. But you’re like a little fluffy puppy aren’t you? Do you do _anything_ at all like this when you’re not in that mindless, berserker state? I mean, come on, I’ve seen red before, I know how quickly memory leaves you when you’re in that place. You don’t remember the hunt, killing, fucking people.’

Ash made a sound of approval when Gwyn’s head hit Ash’s shoulder, his back bowing.

‘I’ve never been called a fluffy puppy before,’ Gwyn said, his voice rumbling his discontent. He squinted at nothing, and then groaned when Ash dug his fingers into the back of his neck.

‘I’m the first? Lucky me. I suppose your soldiers couldn’t really get away with it. That’s okay. I can. Hey, puppy. You gonna be my good boy? Hm?’

The words were delivered half in jest, a dark thread of command weaving through the playfulness. What Gwyn didn’t expect is how much of an impact those words would have on him. His hands tightened at Ash’s side, he gasped a breath of air, hissed it out. He tried to shape his mouth around a protest, but no words came out.

‘Yeah, you are,’ Ash said, and Gwyn could hear the smile throughout his voice.

‘If you could stop condescending to me, I would appreciate it. If you’ve heard rumours about me, you will know that many of your kin have laid down their arms when I’ve approached a battlefield.’

‘Mm, I can believe it! You in armour, with all of _this.’_ Ash dragged his fingers down Gwyn’s shoulders, over his arms. ‘But even big scary dogs can be fluffy puppies sometimes.’

‘Drop it,’ Gwyn said, and Ash laughed loudly as he started tugging at Gwyn’s shirt. Gwyn lifted his arms and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the floor. Gwyn caught a glimpse of a light-hearted, engaging gaze, and shook his head at Ash. He bit his bottom lip when Ash pushed their chests together, and Gwyn could feel the startling sensation of a heavier, slower heartbeat thumping through their two sternums. His breathing turned shaky, and Ash hummed that sound of satisfaction that Gwyn knew he would always associate with him, no matter how much time would pass in the future.

He laughed under his breath, a cynical, lost sound.

Ash did this all the time.

 _And what will you remember?_ He wondered.

Ash silenced Gwyn’s laugh, biting his bottom lip hard enough that it felt like a reprimand, even as his hands dropped to Gwyn’s pants and opened them easily. After, Ash undid the fly on his own jeans, sliding down his zipper.

Ash pushed him back onto the bed, and Gwyn went with it, though he stayed propped up on elbows to see what Ash would do.

‘Slide back, love,’ Ash said, and then his eyes narrowed, a measuring gaze that matched Gwyn’s hesitation. ‘You know you can always leave if you want to, right? I shouldn’t have to remind you of that, love, but I will. You can teleport, or run, or overpower me, or...I feel like you should _know_ all of that, but you’re not giving that vibe.’

Ash moved to a drawer and pulled out a tube of human lubricant and dropped it on the bed without looking. He crawled over, even as Gwyn was hesitantly easing himself onto the bed properly, and then ducked his head and licked at Gwyn’s lips. Gwyn shuddered, his mouth opened, and Ash made a happy sound and slid his tongue inside, kissing him thoroughly for several minutes until Gwyn’s arms felt weak and he found it harder to keep himself propped upright.

‘Of course I know all of that,’ Gwyn said, as soon as Ash shifted over him. He tried not to tense when Ash’s fingers hooked into his pants, lifted his hips helpfully as Ash drew them off. Ash then shucked his own jeans, laughing when they got caught around one ankle. It was an endearing, helpless sound, and Gwyn felt something inside soften.

‘Fucking jeans,’ Ash said, finally kicking them off and turning back to Gwyn, an amused light in his eye. ‘I swear, jeans and leather pants are the two hardest things to take off and look sexy while doing it. There’s no point even bothering. I mean I’m sure some people _can?_ But not me.’

Gwyn flushed. He rather thought Ash managed to look attractive no matter what he was doing. He was pleasing to the eye, and the musculature of his shoulders and arms continued down his body. He wasn’t as defined as Gwyn, but then most fae didn’t like to be that muscular. When Ash slid his boxers off, Gwyn swallowed.

Ash’s cock was thick and seemed to match the broadness of his body. There was a thatch of pubic hair that was just as multicoloured as the hair on top of his head. Gwyn realised that he wanted to press his nose to that hair, to taste Ash’s cock and his neck flooded with heat at the thought. When he looked up, Ash was already meeting his gaze, something dark and appreciative in them.

‘You like that?’ Ash said, dropping his hand down to his own cock and wrapping fingers around himself, stroking himself several times and groaning.

‘Yes,’ Gwyn said, helpless. The room felt far warmer than it actually was.

‘You want to do anything with it? You know, get to know me a little better? Come here, War General. You’re too pretty to just lie there like that, who knows what some underfae might do to you.’

Gwyn’s eyes widened. There was a promise in Ash’s words that threaded through him, turned his stomach to knots. It had been a long time since he’d truly wanted to submit, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to, except that there was something about Ash that made it seem like it would be worthwhile. And there was no one here to judge them. No parents he had to worry about. Ash had already said he didn’t gossip about his conquests.

Gwyn needed to stifle his own thoughts. He crawled over to Ash, both of them kneeling and facing each other. He looked down as he dropped his hand to Ash’s outer thigh, rubbing fingers and thumb over the muscles there, unused to simply being able to explore someone like this. But Ash made encouraging noises, his breath hitched in inviting ways.

His hand moved closer to Ash’s cock, first tangling in his coarse pubic hair, stroking over the curls that always bounced back into shape. When he scratched his fingers over the skin above Ash’s cock, Ash grunted.

Then a hand fisted in his hair and Gwyn hissed at the pain of it, even as lips mashed against his, Ash’s tongue thrusting inside. He moaned, unable to stop the sound, and Ash growled at him. Actually _growled._

‘Keep going,’ Ash said, panting, when he withdrew. He kept his hand in Gwyn’s hair, softened his grip until he could massage the back of his head. Gwyn shivered, couldn’t stop the tremors once they started. He felt greedy. There was no pressure here to get things over and done with quickly. He wasn’t mindless on alcohol. He wasn’t trying to hide an illicit dalliance from his parents.

It was – he realised – a measure of freedom he didn’t think he’d ever had when it came to sex.

He bowed over Ash carefully, wanting to give Ash the chance to stop him; one of his hands smoothed over Ash’s thigh again, as though he were petting a wild animal. He turned his head and pressed his mouth to Ash’s belly, licking at his skin, tasting him. Ash brought his other hand up to Gwyn’s hair and stroked it, then thumbed over Gwyn’s cheek, exhaling slowly.

So Gwyn continued, pressing his lips to Ash’s belly in closed-mouthed kisses, or licking him, feeling the texture of his skin against his tongue. He moved closer, warily, to Ash’s cock, smelling an appealing silty freshness about him, like freshly made mud, the scent of rain still high in the air. He nosed at the beginning of Ash’s springy pubic hair, before he had to shift and make himself more comfortable, licking a stripe up the side of Ash’s cock.

‘Fuck me,’ Ash said, the sound praise and disbelief more than it was a command. ‘Press those lips to the tip, I dare you.’

‘You don’t need to dare me,’ Gwyn said, amusement catching in his throat.

‘Then do it, already.’

Gwyn closed his eyes at the commands. Ash gave them easily, without thinking. He _expected_ to be obeyed. Gwyn had a brief moment where he struggled with his core of triumph, where he fought against the anchor in his soul that said he needed to be victorious in order to be true to who he really was.

He hadn’t done this while sober in a long time. He couldn’t think about that first time, but he could focus on how much he’d once liked doing this. His heart curled around an old memory and pulled the nourishment it needed.

Gwyn curled fingers around the base of Ash’s cock, keeping it still so that he could press his lips to the tip, nostrils flaring at the scent of him. He opened his mouth and his tongue came and lapped at the slit, and Gwyn closed his eyes at the way Ash murmured his name above him.

One of Ash’s hands traced a spiral over his back, a surprisingly tender, slow motion that seemed at odds with what was happening. Gwyn hesitated, distracted, and then decided to ignore it. This was about fucking, wasn’t it? Not tenderness.

He wrapped his lips around the head of Ash’s cock, having to stretch his mouth more than he could remember doing for this in the past. He pressed the flat of his tongue upwards, applying pressure to Ash’s cock, sucking hard, telling himself that he didn’t feel a measure of relief at the way Ash’s hand tightened in his hair. That he didn’t get harder at the way Ash scraped nails from one shoulder blade to the other.

Gwyn moved up again, tongued at his foreskin, encouraging it to shift down. Ash made an indulgent sound above him.

‘ _Good_ boy,’ Ash crooned, and Gwyn froze, his breathing shakier in his lungs.

‘Stop it,’ Gwyn said, and Ash rubbed at his hair, bouncing the curls in the palm of his hand.

‘Stop liking it so much,’ Ash whispered. ‘It’s okay, Gwyn. I’ll keep your secrets. Yeah, love? You should unwind a little. And my dick’s getting cold.’

Gwyn steadied himself with one hand on Ash’s thigh, the other tightened absently around Ash’s cock as he lowered his mouth down again. This time he took a deep breath through his nose and let his mouth widen around the shape of Ash’s cock. Ash didn’t thrust up, didn’t push down, and Gwyn almost thought it was a shame, except he could feel the quivering in Ash’s thighs, could feel the way his cock had twitched as Gwyn kept lowering his head.

He didn’t know if he could take Ash all the way in. He wasn’t impossibly long, but he was far wider than what he knew.

He sucked in slow pulses of increasing pressure, rubbing the flat of his tongue back and forth on the underside of Ash’s cock until precome painted his tongue on an upstroke. Gwyn moaned, and Ash swore above him, petted him like he really was a dog. Gwyn liked that more than was reasonable, and he distracted himself from how overwhelming it was becoming.

He took another deep breath, lowered himself again and let Ash’s cock press against the back of his throat, felt the breadth of it, squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be able to do this, didn’t know if he could. Ash, above him, was touching him freely, constantly, rubbing the back of his head, the back of his neck, across his bare shoulders, curving over to his collarbones and stroking them. It was more touch than Gwyn knew what to do with.

He focused on relaxing his throat as he pushed down further, Ash’s cock sandwiching in the tight space and making him gag helplessly.

Just as Gwyn was about to push himself down more, Ash pulled at his hair.

‘Fucking- Come on, come here, come here already, Jesus fucking-’

Gwyn made a sound of shock when Ash licked into his mouth and pushed him onto the bed at the same time. He hit the mattress and Ash’s hand on the back of his head, still tangled tightly in his hair, protected him from any mild impact. Ash straddled him, balls resting against his belly, thighs spread either side of his waist, and Ash thrust his tongue into his mouth so purposefully, so deep, that Gwyn felt like Ash was already fucking him.

Ash continued to kiss him, his other hand rubbing over Gwyn’s chest, scraping at one of his nipples, chuckling against his mouth when Gwyn made a sound that could only be called a whimper.

‘You didn’t need to do that,’ Ash said, as he withdrew, licking over Gwyn’s cheek possessively. ‘I want to fuck you, not blow down the back of your throat, though...wow, _wow._ Who taught you that?’

Gwyn’s eyes flickered to Ash’s, and he realised Ash actually wanted an answer. He shook his head frantically. He couldn’t talk about the past, about that time in his life. It had started off with so much promise. It had ended so badly.

‘History, huh?’ Ash said, smiling in sympathy. ‘Forget I asked, love. Wow, though. I could just eat you up.’

‘Not literally, I hope,’ Gwyn said flatly, and then a small laugh escaped him a second before Ash grinned at him.

‘Not literally, but enough that I’ve been wanting to do _this_ since I met you.’

Ash leaned down and before Gwyn could react, sunk his teeth into the junction at neck and shoulder, biting into his flesh. Gwyn’ grunted, his back arched. He clasped at Ash’s thighs, looking up at the ceiling without seeing it. When Ash didn’t let up on the pressure, applied suction to his skin instead, Gwyn moaned.

_‘Ash.’_

‘That’s it,’ Ash said darkly against his skin, letting up on the bite just long enough to speak, before setting his teeth back into his skin again. The move was possessive, claiming, especially with the way Ash held Gwyn’s head back against the bed.

Gwyn’s core energy rebelled, and Gwyn reached up, pushed his hand against Ash’s chest, and Ash growled at him. The sound was deep, threatening and Gwyn hesitated, eyes widening, neck throbbing with an appealing, hypnotic pain.

‘You’re okay,’ Ash said in a rush, as he turned his head to the side. ‘It’s okay. It’s just for fun, right? You get that, don’t you?’

Ash paused, waited for Gwyn to respond. Massaged the top of his head.

‘I don’t normally let people fuck me,’ Gwyn blurted, stilling at his own words.

He hadn’t expected to say _that,_ and he hadn’t expected to say it as though...as though that was what he _wanted._

‘But that means you have,’ Ash said, licking over the shell of his ear, before wiggling the tip inside and making Gwyn wriggle in response. ‘And there’s nothing normal about this, is there? You’re stunning, and I want to see you twist about with a cock inside of you, preferably mine. Because all indications are that you are fucking ripe for the taking.’

Gwyn’s mouth opened on a gasp as Ash licked across his jaw, nipped the side of his throat, even while his fingers pinched repeatedly at Gwyn’s right nipple. The sensations were lancing across to his heart, down his torso. Gwyn’s hips shifted, his cock tried to find friction and he couldn’t get any with the way Ash straddled him.

Ash moved one of his hands away from Gwyn, and Gwyn hardly noticed, because Ash had started worrying at his other nipple with his teeth, was rubbing his fingers over Gwyn’s mouth and then dipping fingertips playfully inside, stroking at his tongue.

Ash shifted slowly, painting saliva over Gwyn’s cheek, licking at the underside of Gwyn’s pectoral, biting at the muscle until Gwyn groaned and blindly reached out for Ash’s head, fingers finding damp curls and holding on.

He was unprepared for the wave of glamour when it came, and cried out, his fingers going limp, his head arching back.

‘Just like that, baby,’ Ash purred against his skin. ‘Brace yourself, puppy.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to protest, but a long syllable escaped him as another wave of glamour hit before that first had receded. It was like liquid fire moving through his body, bursting into stars behind his eyes. He felt the odd sensation of floating, yet being so heavy he’d forgotten how to move. He was hardly coherent when Ash pushed his legs apart and leaned over him.

A slick thumb rubbed into the nerves at the underside of his cock, just beneath the head, and Gwyn threw his arm over his face as his back arched, knowing that Ash was watching him.

‘I want to be in you,’ Ash said, his voice far deeper than usual, creeping over his skin. ‘You’ve gotta tell me it’s okay, Gwyn. I think I can push you with glamour until you don’t remember your name, but I want you fucking with me for this, yeah? Look at me and tell me you want it, and I promise it will be so, so _sweet.’_

Gwyn’s breathing hitched as the glamour faded away. He lowered his forearm from his face and blinked at Ash, dazed and wishing that Ash would just roll him with his glamour so that he didn’t need to think anymore, so that his core energy was a distant voice, and not something that was already getting louder.

‘My core energy is triumph,’ Gwyn said, surprised at how throaty his voice was.

Ash’s eyebrows lifted.

‘And let me guess, you’re one of those guys that thinks being fucked is somehow a sign of being beaten? Seriously? Fae are usually better about that kind of shit. Then again, I do want to fucking _own_ you, Gwyn ap Nudd. But don’t you...?’

Ash moved his fingers away from Gwyn’s cock and started stroking his thighs soothingly instead.

‘Gwyn, hey, why don’t you believe in your own power, man? You’re way stronger than I am. You’re _letting_ this happen. I’m underfae and I’m like small potatoes, compared to you. You’re not a slave to your heartsong, and you’re...’

Ash’s forehead twisted, he frowned. The expression was sobering, and Gwyn reached a hand out, desperate to continue their contact.

‘How can you be the War General and not know all this?’ Ash sounded genuinely bewildered, and Gwyn realised that he’d revealed too much of himself. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looked for his clothing on the floor, and then found a warm palm on his sternum pushing him back down as Ash arched over him. ‘You _are_ interesting. And you haven’t said yes, yet. Don’t look at me like I’m gonna change my mind. I still want to fuck you. I’m not running away. Do you want to?’

Gwyn couldn’t give a response, and Ash was clearly waiting for one. Ash’s hands gentled on him, and then reached up and grasped him firmly at the hips. He leaned forwards, looking at something on Gwyn’s face.

‘You really don’t know it, do you?’ Ash said, frowning. ‘Why is-’

Gwyn pushed up and pressed his lips roughly to Ash’s, not wanting any more of the questions. He grabbed his hair and held Ash firm, biting hard enough at Ash’s lower lip that Ash flinched and then huffed a breath of air out through his nostrils.

‘Bad dog,’ Ash said, when he got a chance. Gwyn swallowed hard, hating the way the words affected him, the way Ash’s breath smelled of a lake after rain. ‘Distracting me. Fine. We can do it your way, but I still need you to say you want this.’

‘It should be _obvious,’_ Gwyn said, unable to bring himself to say the words. Humans had souls, fae had heartsongs, cores of energy that revolved around a word or concept, anchoring them to patterns of action. And the pattern of triumph – for whatever reason – would not allow him to admit he wanted to be fucked, that he wanted Ash inside of him. ‘Ash, it’s obvious.’

Ash was painting small, dry licks over his neck, even as his wet hair tangled with Gwyn’s. The motions were rough and firm, reminding Gwyn that behind those soft lips and warm tongue, there were teeth that had bitten into his neck and – Gwyn’s breath caught in his throat – he’d liked it. He turned towards Ash again, impatient, clutching at his side with greedy hands.

‘Man, you’re amped,’ Ash said against his neck. ‘You’ve got to unwind more.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to respond as Ash moved away and grabbed the tube of lubricant. He flipped the plastic cap and squeezed some onto his fingers. Gwyn smelled strawberries. His heart thundered when Ash met his eyes with his own, bright hazel ones. There could be no doubting that he was an Unseelie predator in that moment. Gwyn had seen that expression on battlefields.

When Ash moved towards him again, one hand up in the air to keep the lubricant on it, Gwyn forced himself not to move backwards; to stay still.

Ash reached between them both, kneeling over Gwyn’s body. Gwyn expected cold lubricant between his ass cheeks. Instead, Ash wrapped his hand around Gwyn’s cock. Gwyn gasped. Ash’s hand was strong, touched him with the same confidence that Ash had when he touched him everywhere else – firm, massaging, rhythmic. His pace was fast, sent sparks of electricity through Gwyn’s spine, so that his shoulders and neck felt as though they were catching alight.

His head dropped back to the bed and Ash moved closer, watching him.

‘Think of it as an ice breaker,’ Ash said, and Gwyn could feel Ash’s eyes on him, even as he didn’t make eye contact.

The wave of glamour was unexpected, it caught him at the base of an exhale, and his breath strangled as he fought for air. He felt his orgasm drawing closer, pulling together in his balls, thrumming through his nerves. Bursts of red and white flashed behind his eyes, and he threw his forearm back over his eyes, not liking how intently Ash was watching him.

The wave of glamour faded, then began to peak again, heat roiling thick.

‘You’re not...playing fair,’ Gwyn groaned.

‘You bet your ass I’m not,’ Ash growled. ‘Give it up for me, already.’

Ash moved closer, slid his tongue between Gwyn’s already open mouth and pressed it to Gwyn’s tongue, holding it there, offering a still, intrusive pleasure. Gwyn whimpered, and the next wave of glamour had a slow, teasing beginning, and then quickly built until it was too sharp to bear.

Ash moved back and breathed against his mouth:

‘Good puppy.’

Gwyn’s back arched sharply, his breath shuddered out of his lungs on a long exhale as he came. The glamour was still building, and he whined as his breath came faster, muscles going into spasm, one hand over his eyes and the other dragging marks down Ash’s back. Ash kept his hand moving, kept the glamour up, wouldn’t let Gwyn down from the peak. Gwyn pushed his hips away from Ash’s hand, but Ash continued.

The pleasure of it was sharp, overwhelming, almost pain, and he cried out softly, pleading for mercy.

Ash’s hand slowed on him before the glamour eased up. But he kept his fingers at the base of Gwyn’s cock, circling around until he was stroking the skin above, digging his fingers into the taut flesh of Gwyn’s pelvis, stirring an ache. Gwyn made a sound of discontent and Ash let up several seconds later, rubbing at his belly, sliding the palm of his hand over contour and ridges of muscle.

Gwyn was still gathering his breathing together when he heard Ash open the tube of lubricant again. The smell of strawberries became thicker in the room, and Gwyn clumsily pushed himself up onto his forearms, blinked at Ash, brow furrowing.

‘Stay like that,’ Ash said, flashing a grin. White teeth and a wicked smile, and Gwyn nodded once before he was even aware of doing so.

He’d been accustomed to taking orders all his life. Those instincts won out, even over his core energy of triumph.

‘Lift your hips for me, roll them up a bit,’ Ash said. ‘Go on, you’re fucking built like a brick shithouse, put those muscles to work, love.’

Ash moved so that he was kneeling by his hips, leaned down and pressed his lips to Gwyn’s nipple, even as he started stroking the side of Gwyn’s thigh with the back of his hand. Gwyn closed his eyes, his head tilted back. He’d come once. He hadn’t expected more, and Ash wanted to keep going. He wasn’t even sure if he could come again. But then this wasn’t about that, it was about Ash getting what he wanted as well.

He tilted his hips up at Ash’s encouragement, a roll upwards that he had to hold with the tensing of his stomach, assisted by bending his legs above his body, letting his feet come up off the bed.

Ash shifted again so that his knee was slightly underneath Gwyn’s ass, and Gwyn realised Ash was bracing him. He shivered. He felt exposed. It didn’t matter that Ash was naked beside him, half-hard. Gwyn didn’t have the benefit of complete drunkenness to distract him. He was more acutely aware of everything now that he’d come. Instead of a post-orgasmic fuzziness, everything was becoming sharper around the edges.

Ash fitted his palm to the curve of Gwyn’s ass, so that his thumb was resting to the side of his balls, and the rest of his fingers were facing down, curving towards his entrance. Gwyn swallowed, looked sideways.

Ash began rocking his hand back and forth slowly, caresses that moved down the crease of his ass, or up along the seam of his inner thigh. The motions were almost careful, which Gwyn hadn’t expected. He could hear every breath pushed out of his own nose. The lubricant was warming up between them, the strawberry smell – which seemed like it must be artificial – was getting stronger.

Ash’s fingertips began massaging directly over Gwyn’s entrance, and Gwyn opened his mouth even as Ash hummed in something that could have been approval or satisfaction.

‘You’re looking a bit flushed,’ Ash said, voice rougher than before. ‘Is that a sweat you’re breaking out in?’

‘Do you...really need me to-’

Gwyn’s voice choked off as Ash pushed the tip of his index finger inside and then slid deeper on slow pumps of his hand. Back and then forth again, each wave of movement hypnotic.

‘You are fucking tight, my friend,’ Ash said, a mixture of surprise and pleasure in his voice. ‘I always forget that fae don’t stay loose and fucked open, especially once you’re in the higher classes.’

Gwyn whimpered as Ash’s knuckles hit ass cheeks, hardly focusing on what Ash was saying. There was an inner struggle happening inside of him. His core energy was stirring, sending fear signals to the rest of his body – he was invaded, he was being conquered, he was supposed to _win._ The rest of his body sent confusing signals of arousal that washed over his bones, made his blood sluggish with want.

‘You with me, love?’ Ash said, bracing his other arm by Gwyn’s, almost as though he was offering support. ‘Stay here, alright?’

‘I’m hardly leaving,’ Gwyn said, surprised at how deep his voice had become.

‘You already are, baby. If you don’t start concentrating, I’ll _make_ you concentrate on what’s happening right now. Maybe you just need some incentive, yeah?’

Gwyn’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he was about to reply when a small, teasing wave of glamour pushed through his pelvis. He groaned, bit his lower lip, found himself looking down between them both. He couldn’t see Ash’s hand properly, but he could see his own cock, slick with lubricant and some of his own spend, sticky and attempting to rise again already. He could feel Ash’s thumb resting carefully on his balls now, a pressure which highlighted his sensitivity but didn’t aggravate it.

He felt as though he might be coming apart at the seams. He looked at Ash, quickly, furtive, and Ash was watching him, rocking his index finger into him with increasing force, mimicking what was to come, Gwyn was sure. Anticipation spiralled through him, made his chest tight. Ash’s expression was intent, the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He looked like he could feed off Gwyn’s reactions, and for a moment Gwyn forgot that Ash ate humans, and thought he was staring into the hungry gaze of a starved incubus.

Gwyn dropped back onto the bed completely, not bothering to hold his upper half up anymore. His forearm came to rest over his eyes again. He didn’t like Ash watching him like that, seeing all his reactions, seeing him as anything other than a stoic War General.

Ash chuckled softly, but didn’t say anything. Gwyn jumped when he felt kisses on his shoulder, each one firm and wet, Ash’s tongue licking at his skin, tasting it.

The second finger came with a more noticeable stretch and burn, and Ash wedged his knee firmly under Gwyn’s hip, lifting him a little more, keeping his mouth moving across his chest, his nipple, licking up to his neck where he could nip playfully, each brush of teeth just hard enough to be threatening. They caused small flares of pain that balanced the slower ache building as Ash pushed his fingers deeper and deeper, spreading them, twining them inside his body.

‘You are so fucking hot,’ Ash said fervently, ‘even if I can’t see your face properly. I wasn’t sure how this was gonna be, when I first saw you, but-’

‘When you first saw me?’ Gwyn said, gasping. ‘You planned this?’

‘Not...exactly,’ Ash said. ‘Don’t usually go for fae, but you’re kind of...I decided to make an exception with you, puppy.’

Gwyn made a sound of discontent that became a groan when Ash began thrusting both fingers back and forth firmly.

Ash smiled against his neck. Gwyn thought nothing of it, and then felt artificial arousal wash over him, _through_ him, as Ash’s glamour swelled and built. He was halfway through arching, his neck tilting back, his head pressing hard into the mattress, when Ash pressed the pads of his fingers up into him and curled inwards, searching. Gwyn cried out sharply, too sensitive, jerking away from the overstimulation. But Ash’s knee beneath his hip had him caught, and Ash repeated the motion firmly, several times in a row, until Gwyn had to push at him, was somehow both pushing him away and clawing at him at the same time.

‘Ah, puppy, easy, easy, come on, stay with me,’ Ash purred.

‘I can’t-’

The glamour wasn’t letting up, he felt as though he were too close to a sun, as though his blood might be boiling. His own fae ability, his light, was so close to the surface of his skin he felt like it was glowing. It took all his willpower to grasp at it and thrust it back down into the depths of himself. Even there, he felt overheated.

He whined when Ash pressed up into his prostate again, body twisting so that he could hide his head by Ash’s arm.

The third finger brought a sharper ache, a reminder that he hardly did this. He wanted Ash inside of him, wanted to rest, his breathing loud between them both. Gwyn dimly realised he could hear Ash’s breathing too.

The glamour was fading in strength, but it wasn’t the respite Gwyn thought it would be. Instead he became hyperaware of his own body, of stimulated nerves. He pressed his face into Ash’s arm, felt tiny hairs over his face, and when Ash bent down and pressed lips to Gwyn’s shoulder, he felt the scrape of stubble. And always, Ash’s fingers working inside of him, keeping him open, relentless.

His cock was getting hard again, his body felt the odd coolness of sweat drying where it had broken out all over his body. His forehead was damp against Ash’s arm.

Ash’s hand turned and fingers ruffled through his hair, and some of the tension in Gwyn’s mind leeched from him.

Ash hummed, curiously, and dragged his fingers through Gwyn’s hair with the same rhythm that he was thrusting into his body, and Gwyn’s hips dropped abruptly, his mouth half open, pants leaving lax lips.

‘Ash,’ Gwyn breathed. ‘stop stalling.’

The laughter that followed was impossibly rich, burst into the room almost as intrusive as Ash’s fingers inside of him. Ash sighed out a happy, pleased noise and spread his fingers roughly at Gwyn’s entrance, doing it again when Gwyn squirmed.

‘Stalling? You think I’m fucking stalling? Love, I’m getting you nice and ready for me, so that when I’m finally inside you, I can fuck you how I want. And I don’t want to be gentle; got it?’

Gwyn groaned.

‘Do you want me to be gentle?’ Ash added, and Gwyn shook his head. ‘I suppose you’re used to people following your orders, yeah? You want me to stop stalling, I can do that.’

Gwyn’s breath left his lungs when Ash pulled his fingers out of Gwyn’s ass. The motion wasn’t rough, but it left him feeling open, empty. Ash shifted over him, and Gwyn stilled when a hand on his wrist pulled up the forearm he’d rested heavily on his face. Ash raised his eyebrows in what looked like happiness when he saw Gwyn blinking at him.

‘There you are. You’re a shy one, aren’t you?’

Gwyn was already flushed, but he bristled at being called _shy._

‘I’m starting to think you have a reason for putting this off. Is it a performance issue?’

Ash grinned at him, then laughed again. He patted Gwyn’s flank in a proprietary manner that seemed possessive, even patronising.

‘Don’t you worry about my performance, puppy.’

Ash settled between Gwyn’s hips and then quickly moved out between them again.

‘Forgot something.’

He reached up, grasped a pillow, and then moved back into position, sliding fingers under Gwyn’s hips with one arm and lifting him bodily. Gwyn had registered that Ash was strong before this, but having Ash lift the lower part of his torso, sliding a pillow beneath his hips, was eye-opening. Ash fitted his hips between Gwyn’s, pressed his cock against the crease of Gwyn’s thigh.

He pushed up and kissed Gwyn, biting hypnotically at his lips and licking his way inside, even as he kept shifting. Gwyn wanted to know what he was doing, but the kiss distracted him.

Then he heard the lip pop up from the tube of lubricant, and knew exactly what Ash was doing.

He must have tensed, reacted, because Ash crooned a soothing sound into his mouth. Gwyn wanted to say he didn’t need it, couldn’t say anything at all when Ash lifted his hips and wrapped a hand slick with lubricant around himself. Gwyn watched as Ash thumbed at the head of his own cock, fingertips circling his retracted foreskin, rubbing at the vein at the underside. Gwyn licked his lips absently, wanting it in his mouth again.

‘Why strawberries?’ Gwyn said, bewildered.

‘Oh,’ Ash said, chuckling. ‘Right. They don’t have flavoured lube in the fae world, do they? Look.’

Ash let go of his cock and reached up, painting hot, slippery fingers over Gwyn’s lips, before pushing in at the corner, filling Gwyn’s mouth with the sweet taste of strawberries that weren’t quite strawberries. He could taste of something earthier and musky beneath that, and realised – startled – that those were the fingers Ash had inside him. He swallowed, stared up at Ash.

Ash smirked and withdrew his fingers from Gwyn’s mouth, watched as Gwyn licked at the gloss of lubricant on his lips.

‘There’s other flavours,’ Ash said, dropping his hand between Gwyn’s legs and slicking the rest of the lubricant between his ass cheeks. Gwyn’s breathing hitched. He already felt the ache of having come once and being stimulated too quickly into hardness again, he was tired – he’d been tired when he’d gone to the bar in the first place. But sparks kept jumping inside of him, like the sparks he thought he saw jumping in Ash’s eyes.

Ash pressed his cock against Gwyn’s entrance, fisting it in his own hand, looking down between them and then looking up at Gwyn.

‘Say you want it, puppy. Be a good dog.’

Gwyn’s lips thinned, and Ash gave the tiniest shove, making Gwyn stretch slightly as just the tip pressed inside.

‘Say it,’ Ash said, voice becoming more commanding.

Gwyn felt as though he was being pulled hard in opposite directions, and he didn’t want to fight both battles anymore. He took a step away from the energy of triumph inside of him, the demands it was making, and nodded quickly. Then squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Aw,’ Ash said, leaning close. Gwyn started to tense, feeling condescended to, but Ash placed his lips to Gwyn’s chin and hummed softly. ‘Please let me fuck you? Please.’

Gwyn’s eyes opened, he looked down at the curly mop of yellow-green waterweed and brown-red hair in his field of vision.

‘Please,’ Ash crooned.

It was a complete change of tactic, and Gwyn realised that Ash knew exactly what he was doing. Appeasing Gwyn’s obstinate core, even with the head of his cock pressed into his ass. It was shocking how quickly it worked. At once, the worst of the tension abated.

‘Yes,’ Gwyn said. ‘Yes, okay.’

He felt Ash’s smile against his jaw, felt the tightness of it, knew it was less warmth and more predatory.

‘ _Good_ dog.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to protest, when Ash undulated his hips in one fluid, firm movement and sank deep into him. Without the benefit of alcohol to dull his senses, Gwyn felt split. His back arched, his mouth opened on a silent cry. Ash slid his arm underneath Gwyn’s shoulder, the other pushed down by Gwyn’s head, bracing himself as Ash moved backwards and thrust forwards again in a movement that rippled through both of their bodies. Gwyn’s breath left him on a sharp, hissing exhale.

Normally he would have wanted the pain, would have invited it. After all, when he loathed himself beyond bearing, he would get mind-numbingly blurred with alcohol and invited his soldiers to go at it – waking up incoherent and unremembering the next morning; only a remnant soreness and sadness clinging to his frame.

But Ash had prepared him slowly, treated him with care, had sensitised Gwyn to the reality of his entire body, the pain of his light beneath his skin, the heat coiling in his nerves.

So he panicked when he felt too full, too stretched, and his hands came up to Ash’s chest immediately, pushing lightly.

‘Wait,’ Gwyn gasped. ‘Wait a minute.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ Ash swore, stilling. ‘Fuck, okay, easy there. Sorry. Do you want me to stop?’

Gwyn squeezed his eyes shut, and Ash began mouthing gentle, sweet kisses to his jaw, to his collarbone. The hand underneath his shoulder became fingers scratching careful, soothing patterns into his skin. Ash was still buried inside him, and Gwyn couldn’t feel Ash’s thighs, his hips, his balls resting flush against his skin. He shuddered.

Ash mistook it for pain. He started to withdraw.

‘Wait,’ Gwyn whispered. His fingers curled on Ash’s chest.

‘Take some breaths,’ Ash rumbled at him. ‘Take your time. We’ve got time.’

He talked like he wasn’t gloved by Gwyn’s ass, as though he was completely unaffected. Gwyn tentatively opened his eyes. Ash chose that moment to look up, and Gwyn felt a mild satisfaction to see the flush on Ash’s cheeks, the way his eyes were brighter than usual. Ash’s face brightened when he saw that Gwyn was looking at him. His cock twitched inside of him, and Gwyn’s eyebrows pulled together.

‘Take some breaths,’ Ash repeated. ‘Come on, calm down. You’re still wound too tight. And that’s...fine usually, better than fine, but – Jesus, it’s like you’ve never fucking done this before. Breathe in, love. Copy me.’

Ash took a deep breath, and Gwyn watched him, feeling the absurdity of the situation and wanting to disappear, to teleport away. He was a _War General._ He didn’t have moments like this; and he certainly didn’t have them with the _enemy_.

‘Keep going,’ Gwyn said, his voice hardening. ‘I didn’t say you should stop. I just said to wait a minute. I don’t need you to _cosset_ me.’

‘Fuck off,’ Ash said cheerfully, withdrawing his cock an inch and pushing even deeper, forcing the breath to choke out of Gwyn’s lungs. The next thrust was deeper again, and Gwyn cried out, broken, as Ash pressed himself flush against Gwyn’s ass, grinding into him. Gwyn gave a breathless sob, his teeth grit together. ‘That could’ve been easier, you know. But...ah, you did tell me to keep going.’

Ash started fucking him in earnest, lifting Gwyn up with the forearm under his shoulders, making room for himself in Gwyn’s ass with every circular grind of his hips.

Gwyn was struggling to keep his breath, to keep noises under control. But Ash was relentless, and every time he did something that made it impossible for Gwyn to keep silent, Ash repeated the motion again, kept adding variations that left Gwyn crying out with almost every thrust, clawing at his ribs, his chest, feeling like he was close to coming again, the feel of it a dull ache in his balls, a band across his pelvis.

‘You are so fucking gorgeous,’ Ash breathed, pushing in particularly hard, mouth hovering over Gwyn’s mouth, as though he could inhale the whimper that Gwyn couldn’t hold back. ‘How come someone doesn’t have you chained up in their yard already? A big dog like you?’

‘Be _quiet,’_ Gwyn snarled, trying to roll Ash over. But Ash laughed and pushed back, biting hard at Gwyn’s lower lip and distracting him. Gwyn growled against his mouth. Ash paused, then growled back; a huge, supernatural sound that filled the room. Gwyn stared at him, felt Ash smirking against his lips. His body was still vibrating from the force of the sound.

‘Shhh, puppy,’ Ash said against his lips. ‘What a cute growl you have.’

Gwyn opened his mouth, faintly outraged, but Ash only yanked him into another swell of sensation, rolling his hips rhythmically, adjusting until he brushed against Gwyn’s prostate on every second or third stroke. The breath was stolen from Gwyn’s lungs, his hips jerked upwards, beginning to match Ash’s movements.

‘Got you,’ Ash murmured. ‘Hold onto me, love. I want to try something.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to ask what Ash had in mind, but his thoughts were rapidly turning into heat and lazy swells of colour behind his eyelids. They were rocking against each other now, their movements synced, Ash’s hips showing a cleverness to them that turned the lower half of Gwyn’s body molten.

The wave of glamour blitzed him unexpectedly. Unprepared, it was a bubbling current moving through his blood, blurring away his awareness of anything except Ash inside of him, the feel of an arm tightening around his body as his back bowed and his head tilted until the top of his head was pushing into the mattress. His eyes opened, unseeing, and he moaned, pained, as his orgasm came too soon, an aggressive force that tangled up in the glamour and left him wrecked and limp on the bed, shuddering in waves. He clenched involuntarily, tightening around Ash’s cock, his own ribs and belly a mess of come.

Ash was hushing him, even though Gwyn wasn’t making any noise other than deep, shuddering breaths, each one yanked from some place deep in his lungs.

Ash was still fucking him.

Gwyn moaned weakly. He was oversensitive. He became aware of his hands gripping Ash’s back too hard, unlocked his fingers.

‘Wait,’ Gwyn said, his voice small.

‘Yeah?’ Ash said, slowing down immediately. ‘You-’

‘Are you close?’ Gwyn said, surprised that Ash still hadn’t come. Was Gwyn not...good enough? Was there a reason Ash hadn’t come yet?

‘Not yet, baby,’ Ash said, and Gwyn needed over a minute before he could gather his thoughts back together again. Ash had slowed even further. His hand shifted from behind Gwyn’s shoulder and back, and a thumb brushed over the furrows on his forehead. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Is there something else I should be doing?’

‘That you should be-?’ Ash sounded puzzled. Then he blew out a sharp breath and stilled completely, his hips resting against Gwyn’s. ‘Oh, love. No. I just wanted to make sure you had a good night. It’s a waterhorse thing...we can hold back. You didn’t know? You thought it was you? Oh, puppy. You want me to come? When you’re all fucked out, looking like you do right now? You look like you could do with a bit of a rest, yeah?’

‘No,’ Gwyn said, his hands dragging up Ash’s shoulders absently, burrowing into his hair and scratching through the warm dampness of water in his hair. ‘I want you to.’

Ash chuckled warmly, withdrew and rocked hard into Gwyn’s hips. Gwyn’s voice broke.

‘Do you?’ Ash said, his voice dark. ‘You like that? Even though it hurts a little? You do, don’t you? Man, my brother would probably adore you.’

‘Can we not...talk about your family?’

‘Puppy, we don’t have to talk at all. You’re being such a good boy, let me give you a reward.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to protest, to point out that some of Ash’s phrasing wasn’t entirely welcome and again Ash cut him off. His movements lengthened until he was withdrawing almost completely on every stroke, every push home rocked Gwyn’s body. Ash’s hand came down and slid under Gwyn’s ass, thumb spreading his ass cheek until Gwyn felt exposed. He hissed and Ash rumbled a sound of approval at him.

The hand under his ass lifted him and angled him into Ash’s movements, and Gwyn whined as pain rhythmically pulsed through him alongside the sluggish, aching pleasure of it. But the pain was an odd relief, something he was familiar with, a feeling he knew on the battlefield, that he’d known with men, with Mafydd.

Gwyn’s breath stilled in his lungs, and Ash was saying something, even as Gwyn scrambled to distract himself from older memories, distant pain. He blinked his eyes open and Ash was looking at him, watching him with a calculating expression, even through the arousal that was building on his face, in his movements.

‘Stay with me, love,’ Ash said, his eyebrows knitting together. ‘Stay right here. Yeah?’

Gwyn nodded, watched him, and Ash gave him such a bright smile in response that it set off sparks in Gwyn’s heart. Gwyn nodded again, and Ash leaned down and mouthed his shoulder, before biting down hard.

His breath hitched, he gave himself over to it, wrapping one of his arms around Ash’s back again, the other buried in his hair. He half-wished Ash would hurry, but the rest of him was drowning in the face of the overstimulation, and he turned himself over to heat, the rhythm of it, even the pain.

Minutes passed before Ash’s breathing became uneven and he groaned deeply. At that point, he’d mouthed more hickeys into Gwyn’s skin, found places for several more bite-marks, a few that were even vicious, close to drawing blood. Gwyn hissed through each one, and Ash either soothed him or made indulgent, smug sounds in response.

Ash sped up, an unfocused growling filling the room. The hand bracing Ash’s upper half by his head moved quickly, until fingers tangled in Gwyn’s hair and pinned his head down. Gwyn strained against it, frowning, and Ash’s pace picked up until Gwyn felt as though he were being scoured out. He cried out, unable to help himself, and Ash _laughed._

‘Such...a good boy,’ Ash gasped, before his hips faltered in their rhythm, and then he thrust roughly forwards, burying himself deep as his body tensed, his fingers tightening in Gwyn’s hair, digging bruises into Gwyn’s ass. He felt it when Ash started pulsing his release inside of him, surprisingly hot given the lukewarm temperature of most of the rest of Ash’s body.

Ash stayed inside him for some time after, even rocking again as he started to soften. Gwyn’s legs were splayed limp on either side of him. He was spent. Ash rested his weight carefully on Gwyn’s chest, ducked his head forwards until his chin rested on Gwyn’s shoulder, his cheek by Gwyn’s cheek.

Gwyn tentatively spread his fingers in Ash’s hair, and Ash sighed.

‘Hang on,’ Ash said, withdrawing from him completely. Gwyn winced at the feeling of Ash’s come sliding out of him, and then flushed hot when Ash shifted and crouched between his legs specifically so he could see it. Gwyn tried to bring his legs together, and Ash pushed his knee aside again, grinning up at Gwyn.

‘Forgot to tell you, I’m filthy.’

‘Get out of it,’ Gwyn said, pushing himself back up the bed until his hips slid off the pillow and he could close his legs.

Ash chuckled, yawned, and then slid off the bed completely.

‘Be right back,’ Ash said, winking as he walked into the bathroom. Gwyn didn’t blink at the sound of Ash pissing into the toilet – years of touring with soldiers had disabused him of all modesty in that area. He heard the sound of a tap running, and then a few minutes later Ash returned with a damp washcloth.

He crawled back onto the bed and flopped the cloth onto Gwyn’s belly. He flinched at the coldness. Gwyn made a graceless, ungrateful sound under his breath and tried to turn away, but Ash reached out with his other hand and kept him flat with fingers at his hip.

‘Hang _on,_ I said. You’re a mess. And as much as I’d love for us to fall asleep with you being a mess of come, you’re gonna feel gross when you wake up.’

Ash quickly and thoroughly wiped away Gwyn’s come on his belly and ribs, then carefully cleaned Gwyn’s cock. When he slid the cloth between Gwyn’s legs, Gwyn jerked away.

‘I’ll use your shower,’ Gwyn muttered.

Ash made a clicking sound under his tongue.

‘I’ve just had my cock in there. You’re embarrassed by a cloth?’

Gwyn stilled when he realised that was exactly what he was feeling, and the reluctantly spread his legs for Ash. Ash was quick, but more careful than before, his eyes flicking to Gwyn’s curiously. He looked like he wanted to say something, but said nothing, even as he went back to the bathroom and rinsed out the cloth.

He came back and pressed his body alongside Gwyn’s, familiar, as though they did this all the time. He trailed patterns over Gwyn’s chest, rubbed the flat of his palm over Gwyn’s nipples, only stopping when Gwyn made a short noise of protest.

‘Get some rest,’ Ash murmured, sounding drowsy himself. The words slurred, and Gwyn realised that Ash was choosing to be vulnerable around him, to rest around him. Under his breath, he murmured: ‘I’m not done with you.’

Gwyn nodded absently, and then directed a sharp look at Ash – rendered useless by the fact that Ash’s eyes were closed and his breathing was slowing.

 _Now,_ he thought, _now is the perfect time to leave._

But Ash’s face in repose was endearing, and he had an arm slung over Gwyn’s chest like he wanted him to stay. Even had one leg bent over his thigh. Gwyn was exhausted, too. He felt sleep or a doze beckoning and, not wanting to have nightmares in front of Ash, listed towards the lighter version of fae rest instead.

Besides, he came into the human world to escape the things in the fae world that hounded him; and as loathe as he was to admit it to himself, there was a loneliness that plagued him fae-side that he wished he could escape.

And though he could never truly escape it, never be his true self around anyone, here he had the illusion of something like closeness. He wanted to indulge for just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Should be posted in a week. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this story is marked as complete, chances of future installments are likely - so feel free to subscribe anyway. Either way, these three chapters work as a vignette too, and this chapter caps off this 'installment' nicely I think.
> 
> For those who read Augus as well, enjoy the parallels between Augus and Ash - gotta love those predatory waterhorses! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has kudosed, commented, bookmarked, subscribed - all of you are simply awesome. And cheers for coming along on what was a very self-indulgent ride for me; this was mostly hurt/comfort porn for myself, and it's great that others can enjoy that too. <3

Gwyn came out of his doze all at once, startling, even as hands encouraged him back down again. They were gentle but firm, for a moment Gwyn thought he was in the healer’s tent.

Then he remembered the events of the night before. He shifted, but there was a warm weight above him making it difficult to move freely.

Ash’s tongue was lapping at the concaves of his muscles on his abdomen, scraping his lower teeth carefully against skin. He kissed an open-mouth against him, then trailed chaste, closed-mouthed kisses over his body.

‘Hey there,’ Ash said warmly, looking up and smiling lazily at him.

‘I-’

‘Shhh, give yourself some time to wake up,’ Ash rumbled, stroking his hand over Gwyn’s arm, then rubbing at his fingertips with his own. It was strange, intimate. Gwyn felt a thread of apprehension move through him.

_What do you want from me?_

He wondered if he should get dressed when Ash began licking his way pointedly towards Gwyn’s crotch. His eyes drifted shut, he shifted on the bed. He could feel a shaft of sunlight streaming in nearby, but the light was mostly blocked by dark curtains. There was a cosy dimness about the place – it was a bedroom designed for someone who liked lazy mornings, who needed to wake up slowly. It was a luxurious space. Gwyn had never slept in a room with so many blankets, cushions, pillows. Even his room back in his parent’s An-Fnwy estate – for all that he didn’t live there anymore – was not this inviting.

Ash’s hand lifted his limp cock and lips found the head of him with no preamble, firming around him. Ash laved his tongue over the head of his cock as he rubbed lazy strokes into Gwyn’s thigh. Gwyn’s awareness of the room disappeared, his concentration balled up on itself. He was shocked and aroused, hips shifting, one leg bending up and toes curling into the bed. His groan was echoed by Ash humming at him, and Gwyn felt the vibrations through his hardening cock.

Fragments of sentences started and died in his head: _You don’t have to- Ash, we shouldn’t- I’m not sure this-_

‘Gods,’ he said, and Ash sank further down, taking him deeper. The inside of his mouth was hot, his tongue a wet rasp. Gwyn felt himself thicken, felt it in the way Ash’s lips stretched tighter around him. He moved his trembling hips up tentatively, and Ash made a sound of approval at him.

Ash grabbed Gwyn’s other thigh, digging fingers into muscle, before pushing his leg to the side and spreading him, wedging his forearm between Gwyn’s legs. Gwyn’s hips began moving in small, limited movements, and Ash met each one, moving down on Gwyn’s upstroke, the sound of it slick between them. Gwyn’s face was heating red, he groaned thickly. Waking up to this was _very_ nice.

‘You’re good,’ Gwyn said, his voice deep with arousal.

Ash actually laughed, the sound caught in his mouth, around Gwyn’s cock. The sound was knowing.

_Of course he knows how good he is._

Ash kept moving, and Gwyn’s thrusts became rougher, until Ash lifted his head off Gwyn’s cock and pinned his hips to the bed with both hands. Air made his cock cold, and Gwyn’s breath caught, pained, in his throat.

‘You’re not stopping,’ Gwyn said to the room, incredulous. He lifted up and swallowed at the sight of Ash, lips swollen, a promise in his eyes.

‘I don’t stop,’ Ash said, ‘but I like the road less travelled.’

Gwyn laughed at the line, couldn’t help himself. Ash joined him a moment later, was still laughing when he pressed small, butterfly kisses to the skin pulled taut over his hipbone. He slid his hands up Gwyn’s body, stroking over his chest, and then sliding down his side and fitting his hands between his arms and ribs.

It was sweet, even tender. Gwyn’s cock bobbed over his belly, neglected, as Ash licked a spiral into his skin and then rubbed his hair across his side, before dragging his fingers through the dampness he left behind. He moved constantly, a slow sensuality in all of his motions. Gwyn didn’t know what to do with his hands, wanted to participate somehow.

His toes dug into the blankets for a completely different reason.

‘What are you doing?’ Gwyn said, eyebrows pulling together.

‘Feeling you up,’ Ash said absently, biting at the base of his ribs, and then biting a small chain of sharp, sweet bites up the inner curve of his ribs, until he was licking between his sternum. Gwyn’s fingers came up and tentatively rested over Ash’s hair. Ash pressed his head up into Gwyn’s hand, his back arching up like a giant feline.

Gwyn scratched into his curls, liking the feel of them against his hand. When he sought out the waterweed, Ash actually made a sound that Gwyn thought was a growl, and he froze. Then he realised, as Ash repeatedly pushed up into his hand, that it was more like a purr. He stroked his fingers over a strand of waterweed again, and Ash rewarded him by kissing one of his nipples, before licking it generously with his tongue.

Ash moved carefully around his chest, hands moving up and down his ribs, until Gwyn’s hand slowed and his uncertainty returned.

He didn’t need this.

Why did Ash think he needed this?

‘Why are you doing this?’ Gwyn said, and Ash made a huffing sound that was exasperation. He knelt up suddenly, staring at Gwyn with a frown on his face.

‘Geez, you’re not used to this,’ Ash said, not a question, but a statement. His head turned to the side, his mouth pulled together. When he turned back to Gwyn, he shook his head faintly.

‘And it’s more than just you being impatient to fuck, isn’t it?’ Ash said, tilting his head to the side. ‘You act like...’

Ash’s eyes widened. Gwyn felt uncomfortably scrutinised, and he shifted on the bed. His erection was wilting, forgotten.

‘Who hurt you?’ Ash said, eyes narrowing.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Gwyn said, his voice turning cold.

‘Don’t bullshit me,’ Ash said, sounding angry that Gwyn would even try. ‘You think I haven’t met an abuse victim before? I can’t believe it though. Was it like...a commander or something? Someone who abused a position of power over you? Go on. Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that no one’s done that to you before.’

Gwyn felt his whole body turn numb with cold, and he stared Ash in the eye, grimacing.

‘No one has _ever_ abused me.’

‘You’re lying,’ Ash said, sounding not angry, but bewildered. ‘So you’re one of the Seelie fae that can lie without compunction, huh? Well, at least it makes me feel a little closer to you. The ones on the more extreme end of the spectrum are hard to be around, y’know?’

Ash touched Gwyn’s face carefully, and Gwyn’s lips pulled back in a sneer. He lashed out, grasping Ash’s shoulders and flipping him onto his back, glaring at him. Ash stared up at him, not surprised – he only looked curious, as though Gwyn was some fascinating subject he was trying to understand.

‘Don’t underestimate me,’ Gwyn grit out. ‘Do you know how many of your fellows I killed yesterday?’

‘A few?’ Ash shrugged. ‘Lots? So what? Do you think that you having some shit in your past means you’re not dangerous as fuck now? I’m not trying to fucking emasculate you, I’m just making an observation – you’re damaged.’

Gwyn shoved at Ash and got off the bed, looking for his clothing. His cheeks were warm, and he couldn’t tell if it was from anger, or something else.

He froze when he felt the small pulse of comforting glamour wash over him. He turned around and stalked back to the bed, and Ash didn’t look curious anymore, but frightened. He pushed himself backwards as Gwyn moved over him, teeth bared.

'Don’tyou _dare_ use your dra’ocht against me. Using it while fucking is one thing, using it while-’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Ash said quickly, looking at Gwyn as he used his size and strength to pin Ash down to the bed. ‘Got it. Won’t happen again, alright? I was just trying to _help._ I fucking get that you don’t want that.’

Gwyn glared at him, and Ash’s face twisted, and he stared defiance up at Gwyn.

‘Except that you kind of _do._ No one, _no_ fucking fae like yourself goes into the human world, _alone,_ drinking on his own, because he’s so fucking well-adjusted and happy.’

‘What’s your excuse?’

‘I _live_ here,’ Ash spat. ‘I _like_ humans. But you don’t. You know nothing about this world. Your clothing is carbon dated. And you came home with me, you’re no idiot, you saw through my charm. I keep telling you that you’re _letting_ this happen and you act like that’s not true. Like I’m gonna fucking stab you in the back or something. You don’t get that you practically broadcast that you’ve been hurt by someone. And I figure that no one sees that side of you in the fae world, because if they did, you wouldn’t be a fucking War General, would you?’

Ash pushed at him, using his waterhorse weight, and Gwyn rocked back into a kneeling position, watching Ash warily as he did the same.

‘Look, watch me,’ Ash said, reaching out slowly with his hand. He curved it around Gwyn’s rib cage, rubbing at his skin with the heel of his hand. Gwyn swallowed, nervous, as Ash’s touch became tender, careful. He resisted the urge to shove Ash’s hand away.

‘See this?’ Ash said. ‘You don’t know how to deal with this. You shiver like no one’s fucking done this to you before. That’s not normal, Gwyn, and I don’t think you know enough about what sex can be like, to even know that your uncertainty around _kindness_ is fucking...not normal. You’re not used to being touched like this, and you think I’m going to _hurt_ you. Alright? But I haven’t hurt you, and I don’t plan on it. And I’m not some fucking asshole who’s just going to- Look, I’m a sensual guy. I like to touch. That turns me on. This? What I’m doing right now? I’m not just doing that for _you,_ I’m doing that because I like to do it. Because you feel nice.’

Ash raised his other hand and curved it around Gwyn’s upper arm, stroking down and then back up again. Gwyn didn’t know where to look anymore, so he stared at Ash’s chest.

‘You want some mindless fuck? You’re not gonna get it with me, even if this is only twenty four hours. You want me to pretend I’m not like this, to satisfy some paranoia you have about people who touch you nicely...but I can’t do that. You want to be treated callously, find someone else. I’m not your guy. So if you’re just going to try and goad me into treating you badly, this is done. And I’m sorry. We had a good time. We can _keep_ having a good time. But you have to let me have a good time too.’

Gwyn was taken aback by Ash’s words. Everything he said sounded genuine. He couldn’t sense any more glamour than Ash’s natural dra’ocht shimmering in the background.

‘I know that it makes you wary,’ Ash said, his voice gentling. ‘I know that, puppy. But you want it, too. And there’s no shame in that. So if you secretly want it, and I want to give that to you, why can’t you just secretly enjoy it? Yeah?’

Ash pressed closer until their chests were touching, until Gwyn could feel the slow thump of Ash’s heart against his own faster beat. Ash pressed his cheek to Gwyn’s cheek, exhaling slowly.

‘What do you want? Are we done?’

Gwyn shivered. He didn’t like Ash’s honesty – if that was what it was – and he didn’t like how logical it all sounded. He felt deconstructed. Ash smelled of his own natural musk, of silt and muddy lakes and the deep green of plants that grew in the shadows. He smelled appealing, and Gwyn turned his cheek towards Ash’s without thinking, listing into him.

‘You take too many liberties,’ Gwyn said, even as he pressed his nose to Ash’s cheek. ‘You are forward – crass and cocky for an underfae whose neck I could snap in seconds.’

‘I like a little danger,’ Ash said, his voice turning rough.

‘You like controlling it,’ Gwyn said, realising that it was true. For Ash’s glamour had mastered the bar they were in. He’d used it effectively to get what he wanted from Gwyn. He inserted himself into situations with others, and then used his fae abilities to control his surroundings. But because he did it all from a stance of friendliness, it was easy to miss.

‘Yep,’ Ash said, sliding fingers underneath Gwyn’s jaw and firmly pushing his head up, only to kiss the underside of his jaw. Gwyn stared up at the ceiling. ‘You like being controlled. So what? You’re way more interesting than I thought you would be though. All those rumours just make you sound like...I don’t know, man. A mindless killing machine?’

‘I don’t believe those reports are inaccurate when I’m on a battlefield.’

‘You’re going to let me fuck you again,’ Ash said, smiling against his jaw. ‘I can tell. Because all this? This is fucking stalling. You want it, but you don’t know what to do with that, huh? I do.’

Teeth closed over his throat, Gwyn’s cock twitched. He inhaled sharply, and Ash bit harder. Gwyn leaned backwards, staring at him. His neck ached.

‘You do take liberties,’ Gwyn said, voice flat. ‘I know what it means when an Unseelie does that to someone else. Everyone does.’

Ash grinned at him, warm lights dancing in his eyes. He looked down at Gwyn’s cock, and then raised his eyebrows.

‘Little Gwyn’s definitely interested.’

‘Unlike you, my actions are not dictated entirely by my cock. We’re done.’

Gwyn slid off the bed, furious. He bent down to pick up his shirt. A hand curled around his upper arm and he was jerked backwards. He turned, ready to fight, do some serious damage, but by the time he decided not to lash out, he was already being manhandled back to the bed by Ash. He was stronger than he looked, and he looked like he could handle himself. Ash straddled his torso, pinned Gwyn’s arm down, leaned over him.

Gwyn damned himself when his cock started to harden again.

Ash’s lips hovered over his, daring. They made no contact, but they were close enough to Gwyn’s lips that he could feel the electricity between them, his skin itched.

He closed the gap between the two of them, angry, biting his teeth into Ash’s bottom lip and digging down hard enough that Ash flinched. Only then did Gwyn stop, opening his mouth to bite again. Ash slid his tongue slowly into Gwyn’s mouth, not seeming to care when Gwyn’s teeth scraped against it. He curled his tongue over Gwyn’s, buried the fingers of his other hand into Gwyn’s hair at the same time, rubbed his thumb behind Gwyn’s ear.

Gwyn moaned, sensation shooting down his spine.

‘You like it,’ Ash said as he withdrew, licking at Gwyn’s lips. ‘You’re fucking starving for it, War General. Aren’t you?’

Gwyn tried to reply, but Ash was kissing him again, a thoroughness in his motions that stole Gwyn’s words, and then stole the breath from his lungs until he forgot that he could breathe through his nose. He broke away and gasped, and then his mouth slammed shut when Ash sucked marks into the side of his neck. He tried to twist away and Ash followed him.

‘This is petty,’ Gwyn growled.

‘You like it,’ Ash said, grinning against his skin.

Because amongst many of the animal shifters, even waterhorses, laying teeth over the neck and throat was a sign of domination. It was a way of asserting control, it was even known to settle territory disputes. Gwyn shoved at Ash’s chest, and Ash shoved back, dragging Gwyn’s head to the side roughly and then biting hard enough to bruise. Gwyn tensed, and made a sound of frustration when a treacherous part of his body told him to give in, told him to go limp. There were some biological instincts even he couldn’t get away from.

‘I’m gonna fuck you again,’ Ash breathed. ‘And you’re gonna turn over for it, today.’

Gwyn scoffed, started to reply, when teeth sank hard into his collarbone. Pain lanced through him and he stilled, his body became more pliant. Ash shifted above him and bit harder, and Gwyn choked on a swallow.

‘Good boy,’ Ash said. ‘See? We can play it your way.’

‘This isn’t _my_ way.’

‘Yes it fucking is,’ Ash said, laughing. ‘Now turn over.’

‘Ash, if you th-’

Ash pressed his lips to Gwyn’s ear, licking over it.

‘Do it,’ Ash ground out.

The command sang through Gwyn’s blood, clashed with his core energy, until he felt even that shudder to silence beneath the force of Ash’s voice. He blinked at nothing, realised that Ash was right. He did want it to be this way.

Ash shifted position as Gwyn rolled over onto his belly, careful of his erection. Ash straddled his thighs, pressed both of his hands to Gwyn’s lower back and pushed down hard. Gwyn grunted, then sighed out a breath when those hands ran heavily up his back and slid down his arms.

‘Lift your hips,’ Ash said, pulling Gwyn’s hips up, showing him the position he wanted him in. Gwyn found himself flat on his chest, his knees slightly bent, his ass up in the air. The position was awful, and he started to push himself upright when the heel of a palm shoved into his lower back again, keeping him down. ‘Stay, boy.’

‘Oh, will you _stop?’_ Gwyn said.

‘Then stay still, Jesus,’ Ash laughed. Gwyn’s head turned when he heard the cap being popped off the lubricant. The faint, sex-stained smell of strawberries in the room strengthened.

Gwyn’s eyes widened when he felt fingers rubbing into the seam of his ass immediately, no preamble. Ash’s thumb massaged lubricant into his entrance, and Gwyn tried to shift position so that he wasn’t so exposed. Ash hooked him back up again with his other hand.

‘You don’t like this?’ Ash said, sliding the tip of his thumb inside. Gwyn shifted, fretful. He didn’t know. He didn’t want the concerted tenderness of before, but this felt...

Ash withdrew his thumb, and hummed under his breath.

‘Alright,’ Ash said, as though Gwyn had replied. ‘Roll onto your side. Come on. Just a little. Not completely.’

His hands were on Gwyn’s side, encouraging him, showing what he wanted. Gwyn ended up half on his side, one leg bent, bracing him on the bed. His chest was still pressed forwards, but he felt less...on display, and his eyes closed as Ash’s hand returned between his legs again, massaging over him with a familiarity that made it all seem too easy.

Gwyn realised how much harder this was without even the faint buzz of alcohol within him.

‘I can hear that mind of yours ticking away. You’re kind of hard to figure out, you know? Normally I get someone’s vibe in like...a minute, maybe ten. But you? But, whatever, I can still make you feel good, can’t I, puppy?’

Ash’s index finger slid into him, as Ash pressed his chest to Gwyn’s back. Gwyn swallowed down the sound he’d been about to make, and then cried out anyway when Ash withdrew and pushed back with two fingers straight away.

‘Fuck,’ Gwyn said, pressing his face to the bed. ‘ _Fucking-’_

‘Shhh, puppy,’ Ash crooned. ‘Be a good boy, yeah? You take it so fucking well.’

His voice had turned rich, almost buttery, and Gwyn felt himself sinking into it. He realised that Ash was slowly raising the dra’ocht around him, didn’t know when he’d started. Everything felt warm, and Ash’s fingers moved slowly, back and forth, until he was loose enough that he could start a faster rhythm. Gwyn’s body was healed of all minor pains and muscle strains from the night before, but he still felt an ache at how quickly Ash was preparing him, still felt the persistence of it down to his toes.

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, and shifted until he could lick lines into Gwyn’s shoulder, could press butterfly kisses along the muscles there. Gwyn’s mouth pulled into a confused frown. ‘God, you feel good though, I swear. You are fucking magnificent, you know that? You’re fucking _glorious.’_

Gwyn moaned softly, unused to the praise. Ash was kissing the top of his back carefully, and Gwyn reached out and gathered up a great handful of blankets, rolling back into the touch. Something about Ash’s words had opened something inside of him. He _did_ want this. And Ash offered it up so freely, Gwyn was reminded once again how well-suited Ash would be to the life of an incubus.

Ash slid a third finger into Gwyn quickly, and then withdrew all fingers at once, shifting behind him until Gwyn felt the head of Ash’s cock sliding between his ass cheeks. There had been less preparation this time, and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to tell Ash how much he liked pain; it gave him something to focus on, to bend his will towards when he felt as though everything else might be spiralling out of control.

Ash pressed his chest to Gwyn’s back, breached him with a careful roll of his hips. But once he was inside, he thrust again, firmly, rocking Gwyn forwards until he was pushed almost flat into the bed. Gwyn’s breath was chased from his lungs. He groaned, helpless, as Ash made way for himself. There was pain this time. Ash was too thick to get away with minimal stretching, and a sharp ache coiled through him, settled low, made his breath shudder out of him.

‘Your way,’ Ash said.

Gwyn couldn’t breathe, rubbed his forehead down hard into the mattress, writhed beneath Ash to test his grip, only for Ash’s hands to tighten around his hip.

‘You alright?’ Ash said, and Gwyn nodded without thinking. Ash paused, his hips pulsed hard again, and Gwyn’s inhale was fast and sharp. ‘Jesus, Gwyn. I gotta say, I could do this again some time.’

The words sounded surprised, and Gwyn wanted to answer, wanted to say that he thought he could too – even though he didn’t want a relationship and indeed they couldn’t be seen in the fae world together; not if Gwyn wanted to keep his job.

He didn’t get a chance to answer. Ash began fucking him. It wasn’t like the night before, where there was a contained fluidity, even a gentleness in everything Ash was doing. Ash’s movements were rough, pushing him up the bed, balls hitting Gwyn’s balls, hips digging into his skin, Ash exhaling hard with each push.

Gwyn’s mouth opened, his vision turned white. He found his own destructive fae light and shoved it away, before it could flare. His cock got heavier between his legs with every thrust.

‘Move back into me,’ Ash said, grasping Gwyn’s hip and pulling him back into every downstroke so that Ash hilted in a way that felt like a bruise. ‘Come on, love.’

Gwyn’s hips rocked back hesitantly at first, and then as Ash groaned approval at him, seemed to enjoy it, Gwyn found himself doing it with greater vigour.

After that, he couldn’t stop the intermittent grunts that came with the rough treatment. The pain never faded, and each flare pulsed directly into his cock, landed like a drop of thick syrup in his balls. He knew he was close, whether because Ash had sensitised him, or because he was charged up because of their almost-fight, he didn’t know. He fisted a hand into his mouth when a deeper grunt broke into a fractured cry, and Ash – no longer needing to pull Gwyn’s hips back into himself – reached up and stroked the white-knuckled skin.

‘I want to hear you, love. You sound so good. Come on, puppy.’ His voice was a rumble of encouragement, honeyed and laced with the faintest push of glamour. Gwyn reluctantly moved his fist away, groaned when Ash caught him by the shoulder and seemed to shove Gwyn in a way that made him feel like he only existed for Ash’s cock.

Ash made a sound precariously close to a whimper. Gwyn’s brow shot up in surprise.

‘Close?’ he said, hardly able to find the breath for the word, and needing to gasp short, scattershot breaths to clear the spots from his eyes.

‘Not holding back this morning,’ Ash managed. ‘Might even beat you, puppy. But I have a secret weapon.’

_Is it your cock?_ Gwyn thought, because he was close enough, and Ash didn’t even have a hand on him, tugging him off. The rough treatment was doing wonders.

Gwyn didn’t expect the glamour. The touch of that supernatural, sparkling heat within his blood had him abruptly turn his head to the sheets and shout. Another gentle touch of it along his spine, arcing down towards his cock and he clenched hard around Ash involuntarily as his body was forced into orgasm too soon. He’d needed at least another couple of minutes, and being shoved into coming was red and gold behind his eyelids. His nerves were wrenched, his body responding to the whims of the glamour rocking him.

Sounds fell out of his mouth, he was hardly aware of them. But he did feel it when Ash increased his speed and then held Gwyn back against him, cock swelling and throbbing as he spilled. He felt it when Ash’s release lasted longer than his, still pulsing even while Gwyn’s cock had nothing left, connected to the mattress with a line of the stuff, still hard from the stimulation.

Ash withdrew from him, the motion absurdly careful after how rough Ash had been. Gwyn whimpered when two fingers speared him, turning inside of him.

_‘Ash,’_ he complained.

‘Ah, no, you’re fine,’ Ash said, withdrawing his fingers. Gwyn realised that Ash was inspecting him for _damage._ He shivered. He did still ache. His lower body felt bruised.

‘I’m Court status,’ Gwyn said, not wanting to talk or think. ‘I heal fast.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ash said, sliding off the bed. ‘No wonder you don’t treat that gorgeous body of yours with any respect.’

Gwyn ignored him, mind pleasantly hazy. He slumped down onto his belly and dragged a pillow under his head. He needed to get up. He didn’t have to train soldiers today, but he was supposed to make an appearance in the Court. His mother would be there. Gwyn focused instead on the pleasure-pain that still moved through him, a rhythmic beat, as though Ash was still fucking him.

He heard the sound of a shower, taps being adjusted. Ash came out and stood over him, then reached out and ruffled his sweat-damp hair.

‘Up you get, puppy. Come on.’

‘I’ll teleport myself into the sea and take a bath there,’ Gwyn said blithely, and Ash laughed at him.

He leaned down on the mattress and bounced on it vigorously, upsetting Gwyn’s equilibrium until he pushed himself up and glared at Ash, who smiled at him brightly .

‘Wakey wakey, Gwyn! Get up! Shower time!’

‘You’re obnoxious. If you were one of my soldiers, you-’

‘Don’t give me that _shit,’_ Ash said, remaining entirely cheerful as he dragged Gwyn off the bed and propelled him towards the bathroom. Warm steam enveloped him first, and then he was being pushed into the shower where the water was so hot it was almost scalding. Gwyn groaned, directed his hair under the spray, and realised Ash was pressed up close behind him, rubbing soap between his fingers.

‘How come you’re not Inner Court, anyway? You work for the Oak King, don’t you? Shouldn’t a King’s War General be Inner Court status?’

‘Didn’t want it,’ Gwyn muttered, opening his mouth to the spray and swallowing some of it down. Human water tasted full of metals and plastics, it was in all ways disgusting, but he was only here for a short time, and he could drink the perpetually sweet, fresh water that most fae had access to later. ‘You could have let me rest for five minutes.’

‘I did,’ Ash said, and Gwyn’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t been lying down for that long, had he? It felt like seconds between Ash getting into the bathroom and then coming back again. ‘You were gonna fall asleep. And I mean no offense, but I’m out today, not gonna be back for weeks.’

‘Right,’ Gwyn said. He’d almost forgotten that this was only supposed to be a single night. He wondered if Ash had even planned for him to sleep over, to have sex with him in the morning. Then he remembered Ash saying that he wouldn’t mind it all happening again, felt a twinge of confusion.

He closed his eyes when Ash started soaping him, wrapping his arms around his chest first and dipping fingers into collarbones, before cupping the base of his pectorals and sliding his fingers along the underside, moving palms up delicately over his nipples.

Ash directed Gwyn away from the shower spray just enough that he didn’t need to keep putting soap on his hands, then traced the lines of his body with suds. His fingers were nearly clean from the water trickling down Gwyn’s body when he gently took Gwyn’s cock between his fingers and cleaned it, moved between his legs, even slid water down the crack of his ass several times. Gwyn bit his bottom lip, not entirely comfortable, but Ash was so easy about these things that it was easier to let it go.

Ash’s hands came back, fresh with new soap, and dug into the underside of his ass, seeking sore muscles and unknotting them with the precision that Gwyn had experienced in battlefield healers. He sighed into those sensual, but still efficient movements, and groaned indulgently when Ash reached his shoulders and used considerable force to push into the resisting muscle.

‘So you’re tight everywhere, it seems,’ Ash said, conversationally.

Gwyn gave a breath of laughter, Ash followed suit.

They settled into companionable silence, Ash cleaning himself while Gwyn set to work washing his hair with the products Ash had available. He was used to not being able to clean his hair for days, on battle tours, though he had to prioritise it, because his hair matted and felted if it was neglected. He ended up smelling like astringent herbs, and his hair felt softer than usual, even before it was dry.

He exited the shower before Ash. He didn’t want to, but he was waking up properly, reality intruding, even as he still felt more open than usual, felt as though Ash could walk up behind him and just press inside if he wanted to. It made him shudder as he padded back – towelling himself dry – into the bedroom, picking up his clothing.

‘Hey,’ Ash said, turning off the shower and coming out, shaking his head and letting droplets of water fly everywhere before raising a fresh towel to his hair. ‘Hey, how come you don’t want to be Inner Court? Doesn’t that make you pretty much indestructible? Don’t you need that with all the battling and shit that you do?’

‘It comes with obligation,’ Gwyn said, pulling on his pants. ‘Obligation to the Court, obligation to the King. I wish not to be bound so firmly to either. And as I said to the Oak King; I can serve him just as well – if not better – without the status.’

‘Maybe they’ll let you be a scholar one day,’ Ash mused.

Gwyn’s head shot up, he stared at him in shock, then dimly remembered telling him about it during that stupid ‘quid pro quo’ game. Ash smiled at him, all innocence, but Gwyn realised that Ash was always playing layers of games with people. They were mostly harmless, so they were easy to let go. But now that Gwyn had noticed, he couldn’t unsee it. He still chafed at the idea that Ash had manipulated him here so easily, taking advantage of his loneliness.

Still, they’d both had a good time. Gwyn was used to viewing the world in terms of enemies and allies; and he thought of Ash as an enemy by default, just because he was Unseelie. Now he wasn’t sure what Ash was, and it made him suspicious.

‘You do that all that time, don’t you?’ Gwyn said. ‘Fuck whomever you can, sublimate that hunting instinct of yours because you don’t eat at as often as you should.’

Ash fumbled the towel so briefly that others might have missed it, but Gwyn didn’t. Ash kept rubbing his hair, apparently nonchalant, and then he made a small sound in the back of his throat.

‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’ Ash said.

Gwyn laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head.

‘You told me yourself that you didn’t hunt as much as you should. But you still _hunt._ And there’s no mistaking the fact that you’re a predator. Perhaps you treat the humans more gently, but-’

‘I treated you the way you wanted to be treated,’ Ash said, rubbing down his arms and pinning Gwyn with a look. ‘I don’t fuck most humans like that, because they wouldn’t like it. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really into just doing whatever I want with other people. When you had a problem with something, we stopped.’

Ash was firm as he said it, and Gwyn frowned at him.

‘You still push,’ Gwyn said. ‘You push at boundaries.’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, nodding after a few seconds. ‘I suppose I do. But not always, and you’re fae, _and_ Court status. You think that I’m the same with humans? But this isn’t even about that, is it? I bring up that scholar thing, and suddenly you’re all about dissecting me, huh? I have a brother for that. I know all about my character flaws, love. And I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. Everything just _does_ make you uncomfortable. Probably hard to be stoic around someone who made you come so much, huh?’

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed into a glare, and he sat down on the bed and pulled on his boots without saying anything.

Ash swore quietly.

‘Jesus, it’s too easy with you,’ Ash said, his voice softening. Gwyn didn’t look up when Ash sat next to him, but he did stiffen when he felt an arm loop around his back. They were back to being Seelie and Unseelie now, he didn’t want this. He went to shift away, but Ash rubbed a slow, easy circle into his skin that lulled him. ‘Gwyn, I’m sorry. You put me on edge. I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because you _have_ killed so many of my Unseelie kin, or whatever. I don’t know, hey. I generally think war is pretty pointless.’

‘It is, for the most part,’ Gwyn said. Ash paused. His hand stilled, and then rubbed at the back of Gwyn’s neck.

‘Who are you, man?’ Ash said, sounding confused. ‘How’d you end up a War General? You have stories. I know you do. And you know us fae. We love a good fairytale.’

‘I don’t have fairytales,’ Gwyn said, lacing his boots up viciously. ‘I kill people. The end.’

‘Yeah, don’t think it’s that simple,’ Ash said.

‘Did you mean it?’ Gwyn said, pausing. ‘Did you mean what you said about wanting to do this again? Or was it just something you said in the heat of the moment?’

Ash hesitated, said nothing and Gwyn decided that was enough of an answer. He pushed away from Ash’s hands, and Ash stood up quickly, naked, completely unabashed.

‘I did mean it, but maybe not in the way that you think,’ Ash said. ‘I can’t do relationships. I _can’t._ And I don’t like to be tied down to any one place or anything, so I don’t have like...a way for you to contact me or reach me. Of course I meant it, you’re...it’s kind of a trip having you beneath me. But I don’t-’

‘I don’t want a relationship,’ Gwyn said abruptly. His heartbeat was picking up. He couldn’t believe himself. He actually _wanted_ to see Ash again. Even with all his suspicions, doubts, the knowledge that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

The smell of their sweat, of come and sex, lurked in the room around them, reminded Gwyn of all that had happened. He swallowed, remembered the earlier argument, Ash calling him an abuse victim of all things.

‘I also don’t like to be reached,’ Gwyn said, sighing. ‘This probably won’t happen again.’

‘Maybe,’ Ash said, honestly. ‘I don’t generally fuck the same person twice.’

‘Of course not,’ Gwyn smiled, bitterly. ‘You’re hunting. If fucking for you is the equivalent of chasing down your prey, then what’s the point in eating from a plate you’ve already sampled.’

‘Harsh,’ Ash said, staring at him. ‘ _Maybe_ accurate. I like to think that there’s just a lot of wonderful people in the world, and I don’t want to limit myself. So whatever.’

He didn’t sound defensive, exactly, but Gwyn could tell it was a sore subject. He didn’t understand why. Ash had clearly found a safe way to get rid of his hunting urges, while bringing pleasure to others. It seemed like a win-win scenario. Yet Ash seemed to think that Gwyn was attacking him.

_Because he attacks himself over it._

Gwyn’s eyes widened and he turned away to hide his expression. It wasn’t often he met an Unseelie fae who didn’t seem comfortable being Unseelie. Yet...he’d just spent the night with one.

_Is that what it is? Is that why I’m drawn to him?_

‘This could happen again though,’ Ash said, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a notepad and a pen. He scribbled around to get the pen working, and then wrote down two addresses. ‘It could. Maybe.’

He handed the piece of paper Gwyn.

‘I sometimes hang either one of those places on the last Friday of every month. I’ll be there, or in a bar or pub nearby. Since you’re Court status, you can probably scent me out right? Feel out my energy or whatever it is that you do? So, who knows? I’ll make an effort to be there for the next two months, but then I’m going back to my nomadic ways. If you don’t show up, I’ll assume this is dead in the water, yeah?’

Gwyn looked at the writing – the almost incoherent scrawl of it – and picked out a second location in Prague. He looked at Ash curiously, wondered how many homes he had that he only expected to be in one of these two at the end of the month.

‘Hey, truth time,’ Ash said, smiling at him. ‘I really like tropical fruit. Even durian.’

Gwyn’s lips quirked up at the corners.

‘I once ate the fae species blue-wick durian – you know it? – and didn’t realise that common fae were allergic, and ended up abed for two days. Even at Court Status.’

Ash shook his head, something warm in his eyes.

‘My turn then. I had a good time with you. We really could do this again.’

‘We could,’ Gwyn said, licking his lips nervously. ‘No one can know.’

‘I got no one really to tell. And the one person I could tell is _really_ good at keeping secrets.’

Gwyn nodded, wondered if this was about to become a leaked rumour in the fae world. If he killed Ash right now, he’d never have to-

Gwyn bit the inside of his lip, shoved down his bloodlust, that roiling core of energy inside of him that wanted something like victory, blood on his lips, a body hanging off his sword.

‘Oh man,’ Ash said, rubbing at his arm suddenly. ‘Just got a cold shiver. Alright, probably time for me to go, huh? I’ll maybe see you again someday, and hopefully not on a battlefield or anything. I’ve got no quarrel with you, Gwyn ap Nudd. You’re a good puppy.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to protest, Ash kissed him on the cheek. Gwyn’s mouth closed and Ash nosed at him gently. He expected words to fall between them, but Ash only kept his face close, breathed against him, one hand trailing up the back of his shirt and resting between his shoulder blades.

‘I’ll keep your secrets,’ Ash said after a minute of pressing his face gently against Gwyn’s. ‘I said I would, and I meant it. So maybe I’ll see you in a month or two, and if I don’t, no harm done. But even if it was just for a chat, you know? I figure you don’t have those much, but I’m good at keeping a conversation going.’

Gwyn nodded, fisted the notepaper in his hand. He wanted to say something. That he had a good time. That he wanted to see him again. That things were complicated. He wanted to ask if Ash really would keep his secrets. But the words were stopped up in his throat.

He’d either see him again, or he wouldn’t, and it was that simple. Wasn’t it?

He cleared his throat, turned his face towards Ash’s. His lips pressed against his cheek, and then pressed carefully against Ash’s mouth, a farewell.

Ash smiled against him, and Gwyn smiled unbidden, then took a step back and dissolved into light, finding his way back into the fae world and the responsibilities he didn’t want.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this back in 2014, but intended to write some chapters between chapter 3 and this one, and so never put it up. So here's some stuff you need to know before plunging in: 
> 
> This is set in the future of _Quid Pro Quo,_ probably about three more chapters along (so maybe this would be chapter 6 or 7). Basically, Ash and Gwyn have encountered each other a couple more times, and like each other, but are still basically fuck buddies. In this, Gwyn has had yet another traumatic encounter with his father and needs somewhere to escape to. He doesn’t actually want Ash to be there, so when Ash turns up, things get a little tense, and Ash finally founds out who’s been hurting Gwyn. 
> 
> New tags: Injury, broken bones, reference to domestic violence, nightmares, massage.

He didn’t know what he was thinking. Only that he knew the house would be available – most likely – and it was about as far away from the fae world as he could get. Because it belonged to another fae, he wouldn’t have to worry about humans intruding on him.

He teleported into Ash’s apartment in Prague, groaning at the pain throbbing through his body. His fae healing hadn’t yet started to kick in. Sometimes, when the injuries were too great, when there was too much for the body to deal with, a fae body – even at higher statuses – could go into shock. That’s why even military tours composed only of Court status fae still needed first aid tents, even healers to help remind the body what it was supposed to do.

Gwyn tended to avoid the inside of those places even when he needed them – but he wouldn’t turn his nose up to one now.

Except he wasn’t wounded because of battle.

He looked around the apartment, though he could only see properly out of one eye. The sink was clean, no dishes in the drying rack. There were unfolded blankets on the couch, so Ash had been back since the last time. But everything else was still, quiet.

He only needed a place to rest for a few days, and damn him, he wanted something familiar. That’s what he was thinking. His cabins were empty, had always been empty _._ His mind reminded him of Ash’s attentiveness, his care, and after spending eight hours in one of his cabins, shaking over the breaks in his bones, he’d dragged himself upright and forced himself through a wrenching teleportation into the human world.

It was such a habit not to teleport directly into anyone’s home that he’d had to force himself up three flights of stairs; the elevator was out of order. Now, he was trembling violently, pain made it hard to concentrate on anything except staggering into Ash’s home, down the hall and pulling himself up onto the bed.

He curled up as much as he was able. He couldn’t begin to catalogue the breaks.

Lludd had been furious. But it had been his own fault, and Crielle had stood nearby, watching, as Gwyn was reduced to nothing more than – as his father would say – a whimpering, cowering dog on the ground.

Gwyn willed sleep. He needed to heal, and he’d heal best in a sleeping cycle even if it did bring nightmares. Why did they matter now? It wasn’t like he was going to be comfortable anyway.

His breath was a rasped sob, he let himself sink into darkness.

*

‘Hey, hey buddy. Jesus _fuck_ what happened to you? Oh my fucking god. Gwyn? Gwyn, hey, wake up, come on. Please?’

A hand on his shoulder. Gwyn woke with a start, lashing out and crying from the shock of pain thrumming through him. He tried to swallow other pained sounds down, tried to force himself upright, but a hand in his hair was soothing him, another hand encouraging him back down.

‘No, nope, come on. Don’t panic. Do you even know where you are?’

Gwyn almost answered, ‘Healer’s tent,’ but then he recognised the smell of the room, the smell of the person in front of him, he shuddered.

‘What are you doing here?’ Gwyn said, his voice harsher than he intended. ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’

‘Dude, I come here whenever I feel like it. I felt like Prague, I don’t run on a fucking fixed sch- Why am I even humouring you? What. The _fuck._ Happened to _you?’_

This was a mistake.

‘I’ll leave,’ Gwyn said, pushing himself upright with a wince at the creaking he could feel in his bones. He called his light.

He had already started to dissolve away when he felt a hand push through and touch the side of his face. It was so unexpected, so dangerous to touch someone mid-teleportation, that his light fell away. He couldn’t move. He realised he was trembling.

‘I’m gonna...try this again,’ Ash said, everything about his voice different. ‘Do you need anything? You’re still bleeding.’

‘Am I?’ Gwyn said, raising his hand to his head. His fingers came away wet with fresh and old blood.

‘Geez, you get hammered in battle,’ Ash said reverently. Gwyn realised he must have looked a sight. His father always commanded him out of view whenever he was done with him. Gwyn had gotten used to teleporting straight to his room, to a cabin, until the worst of the wounds had knitted. ‘Are you sure you don’t want that Inner Court status?’

Gwyn couldn’t respond. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, ‘It wasn’t battle.’ But that was...they were words he could never say. He thought that someone else accustomed to warfare would be able to tell that Gwyn hadn’t been in combat. All of his wounds were sustained from a prolonged beating. But Ash wasn’t versed in warfare, and Gwyn wasn’t about to supply him with answers.

‘I can leave,’ Gwyn said again. He was still pushed awkwardly up on his arms. He couldn’t draw a full breath, because some of his ribs were broken. His ankle was shattered. There was – he realised – at least one fracture in one of his arms. It was getting hard to see because of the pain.

‘I don’t want you to,’ Ash said, his voice even gentler than before. ‘Can you lie down again? Or do you need some help?’

Gwyn lowered himself carefully, biting his bottom lip so hard to stay silent through it all that he tasted fresh blood in his mouth. He ended up on his back, to accommodate the broken ribs. He looked up at the ceiling; still couldn’t see properly out of one eye.

‘How long will it take your healing to kick in?’

'Not long,’ Gwyn said.

‘You didn’t know I’d be here, did you?’ Ash said. Gwyn felt him get onto the bed properly, then flinched violently when he saw the hand coming towards his forehead. He grit his teeth together. For about forty eight hours after Lludd was through with him, he couldn’t get rid of the reflexive behaviour. He hated it.

Ash paused. Time passed and he said nothing, then fingers touched his forehead. Gwyn flinched again, helpless, and Ash made a hushing noise.

He expected Ash to keep talking, but Ash didn’t say anything at all for long minutes. Then, Gwyn felt fingers at the hem of his shirt and his arm tried to lash out to stop him, but the arm closest to Ash was the fractured one and he couldn’t move it the way he wanted. By then, Ash had already raised his shirt halfway up his chest.

There was a beat of silence, and then Ash ghosted fingers over the worst of his ribs.

‘I can see boot prints,’ Ash said, his voice flat. ‘And this...’ Ash traced something that Gwyn didn’t even know was there – didn’t even hurt as Ash touched it lightly, because of the throbbing of everything else. ‘That’s knuckles.’

‘Observant,’ Gwyn said, voice strained.

‘Someone hurt you, and you came here because you had nowhere else to go,’ Ash said, like he didn’t need Gwyn to answer him. ‘And you didn’t know I’d be here, and judging from your reaction, you...didn’t _want_ me to fucking be here.’

Ash sighed.

‘Jesus, Gwyn, that’s fucked up.’

Gwyn didn’t have anything to say to that. He happened to agree.

‘Some of these look nasty,’ Ash said. ‘I’m gonna get you cleaned up. Hang tight.’

Ash walked away. Gwyn closed his eyes, listened as Ash rummaged through a cupboard. There was the sound of water running, a fridge opening and closing. Another cupboard. And then Gwyn’s brow furrowed when music came on. Gwyn remembered when human music machines could only manage tinny facsimiles of the stuff, but they had come a long way since then. The music lowered in volume. Gwyn was surprised that it was opera.

Ash uncapped something, and Gwyn kept his eyes closed. Ash was welcome to do what he wanted, but he-

He hissed when something stinging was placed against one of the wounds on his head.

‘It’s just antiseptic,’ Ash said. ‘I don’t even know if this is useless for you, but it helps me sometimes, when I’ve busted my knuckles to shit.’

Another beat, and Gwyn’s lips thinned when one of his hands was lifted, turned, examined. Ash leaned over him, picked up his other hand, and then smoothed his thumb over Gwyn’s uncut, unbruised knuckles.

‘You didn’t fight back,’ Ash said, his voice darkening. ‘Or couldn’t?’

‘Just...be quiet,’ Gwyn said heavily. ‘Leave it.’

‘No,’ Ash said, wiping antiseptic into various cuts on his face, little trails of stinging. It didn’t erase the pain, but he thought it might be helping. ‘No, I’m not leaving it. Goddamn it, Gwyn, I’m not...I know I seem it sometimes, but I’m really not a fucking idiot. You want to hear what I think?’

‘Not particularly,’ Gwyn said.

‘Well, you wouldn’t, because you didn’t want anyone to see you while you were like this. But tough. I’m here now, aren’t I?’

A hand cupping his cheek with a tenderness that made Gwyn want to lean into the touch. Instead, he moved his head away. Ash made a sound of discontent and pressed a pad of stinging liquid to Gwyn’s ribs. Gwyn tensed, and Ash placed his other hand over Gwyn’s sternum, grounding.

‘I think that I already knew you’d suffered abuse at one point. I mean, it seemed obvious enough to me the first time we met. And now? This isn’t from battle. This isn’t even...the enemy getting a hold of you. I doubt they’d just beat you if they knew what status you were. Not only that but there’s no shame in going to healer’s tents. Especially for someone like you. So if this had happened within political sanctions, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in a cot somewhere with some healer looking after you. So I think you’re...’

Ash laughed in disbelief.

‘But _how?_ You’re built like a brick shithouse, and-’

Gwyn didn’t speak. The flare of shame in his body was so great it was flushing his collarbones, he could feel it. It made his cheeks and ears hot.

‘Please tell me who,’ Ash said, lifting Gwyn’s shirt further and swearing. Gwyn had no idea what he’d seen. He’d taken a few upper body punches and kicks, he’d stopped keeping track. ‘Gwyn, come on man, I haven’t told anyone about us, about _this._ I’m not gonna tell anyone about who’s doing this to you. But don’t you think you should just tell _someone?’_

‘People know,’ Gwyn bit out, voice dark.

‘Who? Why aren’t you with them, if they know?’

‘What are servants going to do?’ Gwyn laughed. ‘What _could_ they do? Without risking being fired, losing their jobs, at _best_. When I was living at home they were kind enough to leave salves for me sometimes, to hide them under my mattress or blankets, but when they were discovered – and trust me, enough were – they were put out of the property. Or worse, Crielle got to them. And she has quite a death count behind her, trust me. Crielle could have tutored Lady Bathory.’

Gwyn laughed, the sound ripping through his ribs and ending on a fractured whine.

Ash said nothing, and Gwyn refused to open his eyes. He was angry that he’d even had to say anything. Now it was there, broken, between them. It would ruin what they’d had, it would be between them in the future.

‘ _Why?’_ Ash said, his voice rough. ‘Did he find out? Did they find out...about this?’

Ash sounded bewildered, confused, and Gwyn wanted to shake him that he could be so naive. His eyes cracked open. Ash looked stricken, furious, horrified. He still had fingertips on Gwyn’s sternum, but he looked frozen in place.

‘No,’ Gwyn said, swallowing. ‘No, the consequences of that would be far worse. As I’ve said before. To bring such blatant shame to the An-Fnwy line is...’

Gwyn’s lips pressed together, but he only succeeded in aggravating the split in his lips, and he had to relax his mouth consciously.

‘I dread to think what Lludd might do.’

‘It’s been them,’ Ash said, squinting at him. ‘They’re the reason you’re like this, aren’t they? Jesus, it makes sense. Jesus, I don’t want this.’ Ash suddenly yanked his hand back from Gwyn’s chest. ‘This is too fucking complicated for me. I wanted someone who was a good lay, not-’

‘I know,’ Gwyn said, closing his eyes again and getting his elbows underneath himself. His arm fracture shrieked blazes of white into his head. ‘I know, Ash.’

‘You lie the fuck down,’ Ash said, and Gwyn made a sound of shock when Ash pushed him down to the bed. ‘Lie down for god’s sake.’

‘You don’t want me here,’ Gwyn said, matter-of-fact, even as his back hit the blankets and he winced.

‘No, man, that’s not what I said. I said I don’t want _this._ I don’t want to know that you’ve been through this. It’s hard to take, alright? But you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right there until all this shit starts to heal. Jesus, I can’t imagine what I’d do if Augus treated me the way your dad treats you. Jesus. Jesus, I need a drink.’

Gwyn watched Ash disappear down the hallway, come back with a glass bottle of whiskey. He uncorked it and drank straight from the neck. He held it out to Gwyn, but Gwyn shook his head.

It made him maudlin if he had too much.

‘I knew it was bad though,’ Ash said to himself. ‘I wish I’d been _wrong.’_

Ash sat heavily on the bed, drinking out of the bottle, before setting it down. He ran a hand through his hair, flicked water droplets away. Gwyn wondered where he’d come from. Had he teleported from nearby? All his clothing was dry, so perhaps not.

‘Can you sleep?’ Ash said, turning to him. ‘You look like you should probably get some. I should have let you keep sleeping, but you know, when a dude turns up looking like a warzone in the middle of your bed...’

‘I’ll find somewhere else,’ Gwyn said, though he didn’t move.

‘I don’t _want_ you to,’ Ash said again, mouth twisting.

‘I have a heavy sleep cycle. It could be three or four days before I’m awake again.’

‘Then I’ll go out,’ Ash said, raising his eyebrows.

Gwyn pressed his lips together and released them again, pain flashed through his jaw. Ash’s eyes narrowed.

‘Is there some other reason you can’t sleep here? Hm? Military stuff? Something else?’

‘No,’ Gwyn said quietly. ‘No, it’s...I have nightmares, sometimes. Bad ones.’

‘Right,’ Ash said, like Gwyn had told him that he preferred apple juice over orange juice. Gwyn stared at him, shocked, and Ash shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I mean I care that you have them, and that they affect you, but what, I’m meant to run screaming because you have bad dreams? Seriously. I’ve slept with war vets. I’ve slept with all sorts, man. I’ve slept with people who had night terrors, somnambulists, and well...lots of people. Nightmares don’t scare me. Well, only my own.’

Ash laughed.

‘Anyway, there’s no need to be embarrassed. Do you prefer to be woken up? Or are they a part of your sleep cycle?’

Gwyn was taken aback at how easily Ash was taking it. But he was worried Ash might hear him, that he might start talking, saying things he shouldn’t be saying, talking about people whose names were better off left beneath the ground.

‘I...if they’re bad enough, they’ll wake me. But- But if I start talking, and you’re here, will you wake me? I can be violent upon waking, so it’s best to do it from a safe distance. You can...throw pillows or something.’

‘Yep, if I’m here, and they happen, and you start talking, I’ll wake you up from a minimum safe distance. Got it.’

Ash lay on the bed next to him, then got up and bounded towards a cupboard. He drew out several blankets and tucked two under his arm, unfolded the other. He placed it over Gwyn carefully, and Gwyn stared at him with his best ‘I do not need fussing over’ expression.

Ash ignored it. He moved the gauze, antiseptic, first aid kit and everything else to the side of the bed.

‘Do you need help getting your pants off?’ Ash said, and the words could have been lascivious, but Ash said them as clinically as a healer might. Gwyn was about to say that he could sleep in pants, but he didn’t want to. He nodded hesitantly.

‘’Kay,’ Ash said, bunching the blanket up and undoing the button at his waist. The touch wasn’t exactly detached, but nor was it sexual. As Ash encouraged Gwyn to lift his hips to slide them off, he placed a hand on Gwyn’s hip. The touch was warm, the palm of his hand soothing. Gwyn made himself close his eyes, look unaffected, but those touches Ash offered were the very reason he thought about convalescing in Ash’s home.

The pants slid off quickly after that, dropped on the floor. Ash placed the blanket back, and then another, sliding underneath them both and lying on his side, one hand resting carefully up by Gwyn’s shoulder. Ash tucked his head down next to Gwyn’s and stroked his skin.

‘I was in an art gallery today,’ Ash said, his voice slowing. ‘I mean I got here in the morning and I usually go for a walk to dry off, and then go to a museum or a gallery, or sometimes compel my way into a university lecture or something. And anyway, I was in an art gallery today, and I was just...kind of staring at everything, y’know. I mean, they live hardly any time at all, really, but they still put all this time into these pieces of artwork – some of which would be welcome in fae homes because of the quality. But there was this portrait of a guy – a Greek Olympian, I think, you know the ones – and he made me think of you.’

‘Did he?’ Gwyn said, adrenaline spiralling away and leaving him a bone deep fatigue, an awareness of how bad the pain was. It throbbed heavier than his own heartbeat.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t know many soldiers in the fae world or anything, and you know Renaissance painters, they kind of gave a lot of people like this otherworldly quality. Hey, ah, I know you...I can already guess your response, but would you let me compel the pain away?’

_‘No!’_ Gwyn said, jolting upright even as Ash applied a gentle, but firm pressure, encouraging him down.

‘Yeah, alright, got it. Hey, I’ve got it, I’m not gonna do it.’

‘It wouldn’t work anyway,’ Gwyn said, shuddering. ‘I’m...I’m immune.’

‘Common fae aren’t immune to compulsions.’

‘Lludd and I underwent a unique training. I am...I have a barrier to them. They cannot touch me.’

Ash started stroking Gwyn’s shoulder again.

‘Huh,’ Ash said. ‘It must be hard to learn, because otherwise like, you’d be training all the soldiers in it, yeah?’

‘It is hard to learn,’ Gwyn said, his voice slurring. That last burst of movement and shock had chased him to true exhaustion, and now sleep was knocking heavily on his inner walls. ‘It’s hard to...learn. And...and painful.’

He didn’t catch Ash’s reply. He didn’t need to will sleep to come, it had pounced.

*

He woke. The first time it was in the midst of a harrowing nightmare. A huge, hulking beast had placed a bow and arrow in his arms and said, _‘You know what to do,’_ and he’d heard a screaming, pleading voice that was too familiar. He’d tried to give the bow and arrow back, but the beast hurt him. Wouldn’t stop, and he did know what to do, he _did-_

He struck out as he woke, a hand caught his wrist and lowered it back to the bed.

‘Hey, _heyyy,_ you’re in the human world, in Prague. Remember? It’s me, Ash.’

‘Whatever...happened to minimum safe distance?’ Gwyn mumbled, voice ruined by whatever noises he’d been making before waking.

‘This is my minimum safe distance,’ Ash said soothingly, right by his side. ‘Now, come on, easy now, you’re in the middle of a sleep cycle. Let yourself sleep again, you’re safe, okay? And I think your healing’s kicking in. So let it do what it’s supposed to do. Come on, love, let yourself sleep for me.’

Gwyn opened his mouth to protest and made a noise of surprise when he felt lips press to his.

Ash’s kiss was slow and languid, as though he hadn’t just woken Gwyn from a nightmare.

When he withdrew, Gwyn’s breath was hitching, his body had turned towards Ash’s.

‘Come on, love,’ Ash said again, infinitely warm. ‘Let’s sleep again. The both of us, yeah?’

Gwyn hummed at the fingers that twined through his hair, willed sleep towards him. It wasn’t too far away, and lay upon him like a blanket, sending him into the dark.

*

It was morning. Light fell upon his eyes through an open window. There was a breeze, a mixture of human pollution and Spring upon it. He made a sleepy noise and was surprised to hear one directed back at him. He blinked awake as a hand smoothed over his hair.

Ash was propped up on his other arm, smiling down at him.

‘I got us breakfast,’ Ash said, tickling fingers at Gwyn’s hairline, and then sliding down and rubbing fingers over Gwyn’s lips until he opened his mouth. Ash’s eyes sparked, he slid his fingers inside. Gwyn pressed up with his tongue, Ash pressed down, and Gwyn realised that he was hard beneath the blankets. He bit down, Ash grinned teeth at him.

He leaned in and kissed Gwyn’s lips, keeping his fingertips on his tongue. He licked his way in, making a hungry sound that Gwyn’s body turned towards. His mouth had opened and as Ash withdrew, he kept it open with the fingers in his mouth pressing down on his bottom jaw.

‘How you feeling?’ Ash said, kissing his cheek. ‘You look a lot better.’

Gwyn pushed Ash’s fingers out of his mouth with his tongue.

‘How long did I sleep for?’

‘Three days, pretty much,’ Ash said, pressing his nose to Gwyn’s hair. ‘Three days, most of it you were out like a light for. You needed it, hey.’

‘I thought you said you were going out?’

‘Nah,’ Ash said, smiling. ‘I played video games, watched DVDs, slept. It was good. You had a few nightmares, but most didn’t get bad enough you needed waking. There was three, all up, that I needed to wake you up for? You settled down quickly enough.’

Gwyn realised he was breathing without as much pain and raised his fingers to his ribs.

‘I’ve healed a lot,’ Gwyn said, closing his eyes in relief. ‘The bones are likely still knitting, but I’m always happy when it no longer hurts to breathe.’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, smiling strangely. ‘Yeah, that sounds like something to be happy over, huh?’

Gwyn nodded absently, and then his nostrils flared. Whatever Ash had in the apartment smelled _good._ He pushed himself upright, his forearm not a flare of pain so much as a dull ache – the bone had knit.

‘Did you say breakfast?’

‘Yeah, man, come on, you look like you can _eat._ I got a ton of stuff. Come eat. Break your fast, as they say.’

Gwyn pushed himself up properly, realised he was wearing a shirt and no pants. But then Ash was only in a t-shirt and boxers, idly scratching through the springy hair of his thigh and tilting his head at Gwyn in a way that was both endearing and attractive at the same time. He looked around for his pants and then was about to bend off the bed to pick them up, when arms wrapping around his shoulders startled him. He turned back and Ash was pressing a wet kiss to the side of his face.

‘What are you doing?’ Gwyn spluttered.

‘’Morning,’ Ash said against his face. The huge, wet kiss had devolved into smaller pecks that were now centred on his ear. They tickled, Gwyn squirmed.  

_‘Ash,’_ Gwyn said, amused, flustered.

Ash changed tactics and suddenly thrust his tongue into Gwyn’s ear, twisting it, humming and reaching up with a hand and dragging it through Gwyn’s curls. Gwyn’s gasps of ticklish discomfort became a gasp of arousal and he sagged towards Ash.

‘Hey,’ Ash said, his voice deeper, directly into Gwyn’s ear. He swallowed and looked at his own hardening cock in dismay.

‘By the gods, Ash,’ Gwyn said, and Ash laughed under his breath. One of his hands drifted down, shaped fingers around Gwyn’s cock and tugged once, a friendly gesture that turned the sparks in Gwyn’s body into lazy heat.

‘You’re gorgeous, you know that? All that training, man, you wear it _well.’_

Fingers trailed down his back, curved around the criss-cross of muscles over his ribs. Ash inhaled the space underneath Gwyn’s jaw, and then released his cock.

‘Come eat.’

‘You’re a tease,’ Gwyn ground out. Ash sprang off the bed, walked lightly down the hall.

‘No, man,’ Ash called, ‘I _always_ follow through.’

Gwyn shook his head darkly, reached to press a hand against his cock and stopped at the last moment, blinking in shock at how easily he’d almost touched himself. It was something he hardly ever did unless he was high on bloodlust and there were no soldiers nearby. He swallowed, drew his pants on, mentally cataloguing the parts of him that were still healing.

He always forgot how quickly he healed once he could enter a proper sleep cycle, not the broken ones he forced himself into. He felt surprisingly well-rested, stretching carefully and dragging fingers through his hair as he made his way down the hall – limping only slightly; his ankle was much better. He followed the scent of food – bacon, eggs, what smelled like pastries, chicken, even fruit.

Ash sat eating a bowl of strawberries covered in liberal amounts of sugar. Gwyn realised all of it was takeout, street food, even the fruit looked like it had come fresh from the markets. Ash gestured towards the entire table, and Gwyn picked up a soft, white bread roll decorated with poppy seeds, and tore it open, using a fork to place layer after layer of bacon inside of it. Ash snorted and went back to his strawberries.

Gwyn was famished. He dug in when it became obvious that Ash was sticking to fruit and bread. Gwyn lost track of time, eating as he sometimes did after battle. His body had burned through its resources and he needed fuel to make sure his healing process continued smoothly.

Ash finished long before Gwyn started to slow, and Ash watched him with awe.

‘I’ve heard about it, y’know,’ Ash said. ‘How much like, you Court fae need to eat after battle and stuff. The feasts they have at the Seelie and Unseelie Courts like...but it’s something else to see it. Your stomach isn’t even bulging. Are you burning it up that fast?’

Gwyn nodded and reached for an apple, crunching down every bit, including the core. He forced himself to stop after that, though his eyes kept alighting on what he wanted to eat most. He was craving fruit now. His body had satisfied its need for protein, fat and starches.

‘So how much does it happen?’ Ash said, as Gwyn started peeling an orange. ‘How much does your dad fuck you up so badly that you need a feast fit for a squad returning from war?’

Gwyn fumbled the orange, it landed on the table. He picked it up, glared.

‘I’m serious,’ Ash said, leaning forwards. ‘’Cuz I’ve been thinking about it like, the past three days. He’s a big deal. I’ve heard of him. Does anyone know he does this to you? You couldn’t go against him, could you? Not the son of the great Lludd Llaw Eraint.’

‘Be quiet,’ Gwyn said softly, and Ash laughed.

‘You came to _me_ , buddy. You came to _my_ house. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t be here, but I was here. And you came to me because of like...who I am. So now you’re gonna get that, this is how I deal with things.’

Gwyn swallowed and put the orange down carefully. It was peeled, he’d started sectioning it, but his hunger had vanished. He stared at it blankly. Ash made a small noise in his throat.

‘Okay, sorry. I pushed too hard.’

Gwyn blinked when Ash got up and pulled up the chair next to him, moving closer until his knees were touching the outside of Gwyn’s thigh. He smelled of cinnamon and strawberries – not the artificial kind from that lubricant in New York – he smelled of musk and silty, fresh water.

‘Why do you have a problem with it?’ Gwyn said finally. ‘You’re Unseelie.’

Ash snorted air through his nose.

‘Love, Unseelie care about family, if they’re able to do it. If we can, we do. We put ourselves and our family first, before country, before duty, before honour. That’s what we are. That’s what it means to be Unseelie. Or that’s what it means to me. I wouldn’t attack my family.’

‘He doesn’t think of me as family,’ Gwyn said.

‘I don’t even understand where his issues come from, like, aren’t you this great, up-and-coming War General? What, does he just not like you?’

Gwyn shrugged with one shoulder. Easier to pretend at ignorance than it was to come anywhere near the truth.

They said nothing for some time. Gwyn felt strange, Ash was so close to him, and when he placed a gentle hand on his side, Gwyn looked down, looked up, brow furrowing.

‘He _hurt_ you,’ Ash said, something twisting up his face. ‘You’re so...used to it.’

‘It’s been w-’

Gwyn swallowed the words, but Ash heard them anyway.

‘That’s kind of exactly what I mean. It’s been worse? So this was not so bad?’

‘I always heal,’ Gwyn said. ‘That’s the price of being Court status.’

‘The price of being Court status is not that you’ll heal from the severe and I don’t know – kind of regular – beatings you’re getting from your own _father._ Jesus, Gwyn, I didn’t think it was still going on.’

Ash’s hand curled around his side, rubbed over ribs that still ached dully in Gwyn’s chest. It was fading even now. The food would bolster the rest of his healing. Ash’s hand felt good. It was always firm, knowing. As though he understood something about Gwyn’s body that he didn’t. Ash looked at him with a concerned gaze, it was discomfiting.

But no one knew about them. Gwyn could afford to be someone different here. After all, if the Seelie found out about Gwyn and Ash, he would lose almost everything. So being less hostile around Ash, choosing to be closer to him – that would not be the thing that would earn him the disapproval of all he knew. The damage had already been done.

Gwyn sighed, rested against the back of the chair. He swallowed when Ash raised his hand and rubbed circles over his chest. It was soothing.

‘Hey, puppy,’ Ash crooned, and Gwyn’s face twisted. He hated that he responded to those words. Even now it made him want to lean into Ash’s touch, bury his head in his shoulder. Ash rubbed his upper arm, thumb tracing lines of muscle. He pressed fingers into the band connecting his shoulder to his neck and Gwyn grunted, head tilting at the lazy massage.

‘I can tell you’re still waking up,’ Ash said, his voice deeper, rougher. ‘You’re never normally this obliging, are you?’

Gwyn said nothing, sighed out a long breath as Ash moved methodically up the back of his neck, massaging beneath his skull, where a tense band of muscle gave him fleeting but grating headaches. It was painful, the pressure of Ash’s fingers was not particularly forgiving, but it left him lax afterwards. His fingertips were rough and Gwyn wondered how – it wasn’t like he worked or did any sort of labour. Ash smelled of fruit. It permeated every exhale, but it also was faintly hinted through his silt-scented sweat.

When Ash’s fingers, minutes later, crept into the curls at the base of Gwyn’s head, his mouth dropped open and his head tipped forwards at the gentlest of urgings. Long strokes painted lines of heat over his scalp and he hardly noticed as Ash pressed nearer until they were almost side by side. Ash encouraged Gwyn to lean sideways, then forwards, until his head was close to Ash’s shoulder. He made a soothing noise in his throat.

Gwyn was – in some deep, hollow part of him – exhausted despite his sleep, and he let his head drop heavily onto Ash’s shoulder, breathing in Ash’s scent, the material of soft, frequently-washed cotton under his nose.

Ash squeezed the back of his head affectionately, and then started stroking lines down his spine.

‘Jesus,’ Ash said happily, ‘you are _ripped.’_

‘Stop it,’ Gwyn said, but his mouth curled on a faint smile.

‘Man, no, you are though. You’re like this living weapon, it’s amazing. It makes it really easy to tell how tense you still are.’

Gwyn shook his head in denial and Ash laughed quietly.

‘Yeah, you totally are. Come on, come lie down again. I’ll give you a proper massage. Do you think your bones are gonna hold up to it? I don’t want to aggravate anything.’

‘My ribs,’ Gwyn said, even before he had agreed to the massage. ‘They’re doing a lot better, but pressure...’

‘Got it, I’ll go light. But your spine? Your hips and stuff?’

Gwyn lifted his head, or he tried to, Ash’s hand came up and kept it pressed down. It wasn’t a painful pressure, but it made Gwyn reluctant to fight it. His head rolled in Ash’s grip and he pressed closer to his neck, flaring his nostrils and smelling musk, an earthiness he appreciated. These sorts of slower touches were alien to him. He’d only ever experienced them properly with Ash. He craved them.

‘Good boy,’ Ash whispered, and Gwyn shuddered in his grip. Ash’s fingers flexed in his hair. ‘You didn’t answer my questions though.’

Gwyn thought back, nodded.

‘That’s all fine,’ Gwyn said against his skin. ‘My left forearm is barely fractured now. It’s a lot better, just no pressure, I think.’

‘Mm, got it,’ Ash said, turning his head towards Gwyn’s. ‘Come on then.’

He stood up slowly, and Gwyn followed him down the hall, feeling odd and lulled by the close contact. It had settled his thoughts, instead of a thousand famished fish, there were only a few flashes in his mind. He focused on Ash, the way the hem of his shirt was worn so much that there were holes in it. He stepped through his house easily. He walked like he knew every inch of his body even better than he mapped the bodies of others.

‘Take your shirt off,’ Ash said, pointing to the bed, ‘and go lie down, okay? On your stomach. If that hurts too much, tell me. Don’t fucking tough it out.’

Gwyn had already pulled his shirt off, and watched as Ash stripped the extra blankets off the bed and then took off his shirt and dropped it to the ground, pulled his boxers off easily. Just like that, he was nude and unselfconscious. He opened a cupboard, drew out a bottle of oil.

‘Unless you want a standing massage,’ Ash said to the cupboard, and Gwyn realised that he hadn’t moved.

He lay down, facing forwards. There was a faint ache in his ribs, but when he shifted his arms, it started to disappear. He rested his head on his unbroken forearm, which left him facing away from Ash and looking towards the hall. He subtly stretched his neck until he could smell the sheets. They smelled of Ash, of himself, and surprisingly, not as many others as he’d thought. Perhaps Ash didn’t pick up in Prague as often as he picked up elsewhere.

Ash straddled him just above his hips, and Gwyn squinted at nothing to feel balls resting against his skin. Everything Ash did was so _intimate_. He was almost certain Ash didn’t have to be naked for this.

_Oh,_ Gwyn realised. He almost laughed. _That_ kind of massage. It hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d had so many clinically detached healer’s massages to teach a cramping muscle to behave, or a ligament to stretch out so it might more easily repair; the alternative hadn’t presented itself.

Ash uncapped the oil and Gwyn stiffened when it trickled onto his back. It was cold, unexpected. It pooled at the base of his spine. Ash tossed the bottle down and then two warm hands slid in it, running up either side of Gwyn’s back, the sides of his hands staying close to his spine. The touch was surprisingly competent, and when Ash ran his hands back down again and knuckled into his lower back, Gwyn’s breath left him on a heavy exhale.

‘This alright?’ Ash said. ‘’M I hurting you?’

‘No,’ Gwyn said, surprised.

‘You have to tell me if I do, and you don’t like it, okay? Or if I’m aggravating breaks.’

‘Okay,’ Gwyn said, blinking as Ash slipped down Gwyn’s back and slid oil liberally over his hips and buttocks. He expected Ash to start feeling him up, as he had before, but instead he felt clever fingers running along ridges of muscle, digging symmetrically into either side of his hips. Gwyn tensed slightly, that _did_ hurt.

After several long seconds of hard pressure, he eased up and started painting masterful lines over the places he’d pressed into. Gwyn felt as though something had been unlocked. His legs relaxed, his hips settled, Ash made a happy sound.

‘Good to know I haven’t lost my touch, hey,’ Ash said, and Gwyn could hear the smile in his voice.

‘I thought you were...’

‘What, going to finger you? Fuck you?’ Ash said, laughing. ‘Later, maybe, if you’re not asleep.’

‘Then why are you naked?’

‘Because I like it,’ Ash said. ‘I like skin on skin. Don’t you?’

Ash returned back to a different point on Gwyn’s hips and was pressing in once more, and Gwyn felt a familiar tightening pain and bore through it. Ash kept incrementally increasing the pressure until Gwyn hissed under his breath.

‘It’s meant to feel like this, isn’t it?’ Gwyn said, and Ash hummed.

‘It works on the idea that there are different points in the body where tension ratchets up more than other places. Holding this kind of pressure helps loosen these trigger points. When I let go, like now...blood rushes back and flushes through tense and locked up muscle. And then when I do _this...’_

Ash began stroking firm lines with the heel of his hands over Gwyn’s hips, and Gwyn wanted to roll into the touch, except it was happening on both sides and he didn’t need to. Ash was so generous with his hands, and Gwyn already had his eyes closed, he rested the full weight of his head on his arm.

‘When I do this, it encourages these locked up places to let go a little. It stretches out the muscle and the ligaments and...fascia and stuff. It’s been a while hey, but I still remember some of my training.’

Ash shifted, and Gwyn groaned when Ash dug his elbow into his hip, following a line of tension that seemed to spiral all the way through him. The pressure must have lasted for a good two minutes before Ash let up, and by then Gwyn was ready for the release of it. He sank deeper into the bed, making a needy sound in the back of his throat.

‘Normally I’m such a get in and get out kind of guy,’ Ash said as he worked on Gwyn’s other hip, pressing bruises into his skin, designed to work out tension that had been there for years. ‘Like, I don’t like sleeping with the same people. I don’t want commitments, y’know? I really don’t. But I want more friends, I guess. Like, I know some bartenders, but it’s not the same. And you and I...we’re friends, I kind of dig that.’

‘Are we?’ Gwyn said, exhaling through an open mouth as Ash moved up to his spine again and started working pressure over him that made his abdomen feel like it was tingling.

‘You came to me when you felt vulnerable. Or not like, _me,_ but my place. Something about it appealed to you? I think that’s what friends do, you know. Create spaces that appeal to each other. Not on purpose. Like I haven’t changed myself for you or anything. But something about who I am makes you feel like it’s more okay to be yourself around me. That’s pretty fucking awesome. And something about _you_ brings out qualities in me that I like. Also massage practice. Which I need. If you want more of this, you should totally come get some.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Gwyn groaned, feeling like he was melting into the bed.

The next hour passed with a kind of buttery heat that left Gwyn far more vocal than usual. He tried to hold back his expressions of pleasure at what Ash was doing, but found it increasingly difficult when Ash was doing such a good job of unspooling him like a roll of tangled thread. By the time Ash finally reached the top of his shoulders, Gwyn was almost insensate. He licked his lips, wiped the side of his mouth against the bed and moaned softly when Ash located a particularly tense band of muscle.

Every now and then Ash made a sound of encouragement when Gwyn couldn’t hold back a groan or grunt. Sometimes he made hushing sounds when he dug into particularly stubborn knots of muscle. But all of his vocalisations weren’t attached to words, and he seemed perfectly content just touching.

It was amazing, Gwyn thought. It was incredible, that someone could simply like to touch so much and it not be about _sex._

He’d never experienced it in his life.

‘It’s okay,’ Ash said, breaking the silence.

‘Hm?’ Gwyn said, dazed.

‘Fall asleep. I’d like that, you know. After everything you’ve been through. You can pay me back when you wake up by deepthroating me.’

Gwyn couldn’t stop the hungry sound he made. Ash laughed darkly.

‘Oh, fucking- I will never get over how much you _like_ that.’

Gwyn sighed, nodded, something heavy creeping through him. A doze, perhaps. He wasn’t sure if it was sleep. He would let his body decide.

‘Hey,’ Ash murmured. ‘Later, will you- Would you lie down on your back for me, and hang your head over the back of my bed so I can like...slide right into your throat and fuck it?’

Gwyn’s cock twitched and the corresponding ache that slid through him left him moaning.

‘Please,’ Gwyn gasped. ‘I’ve never tried that before.’

He didn’t add _‘while sober enough to remember my name,’_ to the end of that sentence.

‘Yeah, that’s...oh man,’ Ash was breathless from whatever he was imagining, and then he cleared his throat and started working Gwyn’s shoulders again. ‘But you don’t have to, or anything. You remember right? You tell me whenever you want to bail. If you decide later you don’t want to, you don’t _owe_ me. I’m touching you like this because I want to, not because I think I’ll get something for it.’

A longer silence, and Gwyn felt sleep encroaching on him once more. He was full, sated. There was a high chance that when he woke up the next time, he might be close to healed.

‘Thank you,’ Gwyn said, and smiled when Ash’s hand came and stroked over his scalp a few times.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ Ash said.

He draped himself over Gwyn’s back, pressed his chest down against the heated, warm surface of his skin and embraced him by the shoulders, pressing his forehead into the back of Gwyn’s neck.

‘Oh,’ Gwyn said softly.

‘Yeah,’ Ash sighed, sounding content. ‘You’re gonna have to let me do that again.’

Gwyn flushed with pleasure, and the grounding weight of Ash upon him helped him find his way back to a dark, peaceful rest.


End file.
